The Friendship Cycle
by Ginger6
Summary: How would Jarod and Miss Parker's relationship have progressed had The Pretender continued as a weekly series beyond season four? *****Put a fork in it, this sucker is done!*****
1. The Friendship Cycle One: Another Woman

Disclaimer: Song lyrics borrowed without permission from a funky little ditty titled, "Another Woman," by Moby, from his CD "18" ©2002 Rave New World/V2 Records, Inc. While listening to it on the subway home one evening it inspired this trifle of fan fiction for which I will never earn a penny. This is all in fun, folks. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
The Friendship Cycle One: Another Woman  
  
By Ginger  
  
*You leave your home for days and days...*  
  
A sultry female voice filled the air of the crowded nightclub as he gazed upon the sea of bodies tossing in time to the seductive beat that pulsed through everything and everyone in the room. Home, Jarod thought as he sipped his drink and waited for Zoe to return from the restroom. What a concept. Not that the situation hadn't improved immensely over the past year. He had managed to reassemble most of his family: his father, Emily, and Jonathan, with whom he was still working out what the nature of their relationship should be. Was he his brother or his son? And there was Ethan, too.  
  
Thinking of his younger half brother, Jarod smiled. Ethan's existence had brought with it a thawing of sorts with Miss Parker. Over the last year since they'd discovered him, she had begun to cooperate with Jarod to keep their brother safe, while working out whatever it was Catherine had planned for the three of them. Somewhere along the way, it came to be understood that she was no longer sincerely trying to bring him back. It was never spoken, of course, which was just as well. If anyone in power ever found out, she wouldn't be safe. He frowned at the thought.  
  
His frown persisted as he contemplated Parker's recent chilliness. It was nothing like the pre-Ethan days but she seemed to withdraw lately. She was suddenly all business after months of letting her guard down bit by bit, even reaching the point of playfully teasing him on occasion, like when they were children. If he had to trace her recent change in attitude to a specific event, then it would have to be…   
  
* * * *  
  
Zoe had been staying with Jarod's family ever since his father rescued her from Lyle and Mr. Cox. They would be together whenever he visited the family, roughly one week per month between pretends, plus the occasional weekend getaway, just the two of them. That's precisely what they were doing in Bar Harbor, Maine when Parker landed on their doorstep one morning. Jarod was frightened initially, wondering if she had returned to her old ways. She had never just shown up before; their personal communication always flowed through Angelo.   
  
Turns out, Parker had a very legitimate reason to be there. Ethan had been having trouble controlling the voices again and succeeded in getting himself committed to a mental hospital in Michigan. He didn't have any identification on him so the hospital had put out the standard public queries to try to locate family members. The Centre had gotten wind of this, of course, and was about to send a team to "collect" him. Parker needed to act fast but she also realized that she needed Jarod because it would have to be him witnesses reported seeing with Ethan, not her.  
  
His initial fear having subsided, Jarod felt a confusing and unpleasant mixture of emotions: anxiety, anger, embarrassment, and even a little shame. Having no idea what prompted such feelings, or even at whom to direct them, he quickly suppressed them and directed his attention to more pressing matters. He set about packing up as he absently muttered apologies to Zoe, promising that he'd return to resume their vacation as soon as Ethan was safe.  
  
Parker and Zoe had not met previously, although they were aware of each other's existence. He and Parker generally didn't discuss his personal life, unless it related directly to Ethan, but he knew she was aware he was involved with someone. And, of course, she knew all about the incident with Lyle and Cox. Zoe, on the other hand, was acutely aware of Parker and would demonstrate the strangest behavior whenever her name came up, or when he'd get off the phone with her. But, even within that context, Zoe's behavior that day was most peculiar.  
  
Normally, Zoe was most understanding about his desire to be there for the family he had only recently reassembled but, this time, she was not. In fact, she was downright unreasonable, forcing him to end their heated exchange by stating that he simply didn't have time to argue the point and reiterating his promise that, as soon as he and Parker had secured Ethan's safety, she'd have him all to herself again. And yet, despite the fact that he'd never broken a promise to her, as he bounded down the steps of their rented cottage, Zoe called out angrily,   
  
"For some reason, I have trouble believing that, Jarod!"  
  
Climbing into the passenger seat of Parker's rented sedan, he commented that the Centre was always threatening his relationships, first with his family and now with his best friend. He thought he detected the tiniest hint of a wince on her part, which puzzled him, if only momentarily. He didn't bother to ponder it, choosing instead to stare out the passenger window and consider his strange choice of words. He'd never referred to Zoe that way before, introducing her to everyone as his "girlfriend," feeling a certain pride in having finally acquired one. But, for some reason, that phrase got stuck in his throat and out came "best friend" instead… strange.  
  
Once on the ground in Detroit, he and Parker quickly located a secure location where they could safely assess Ethan's condition and get him into a sound enough state to travel. While she prepared for his arrival, Jarod made quick work of extracting him from the mental health facility. Within a few short hours of her arrival on his doorstep their younger brother was safely in their care, further reinforcing what had already become clear over the previous months. They made a good team.  
  
Parker was spectacular with Ethan, who was in pretty rough shape between the voices and the effects of the medication he'd been placed on immediately after his commitment. He was agitated and confused but she was able to calm him quickly. Within two hours of his return, she managed to get him to eat some soup and coax him to sleep with is head resting on her lap. Watching over her younger brother and stroking his hair, she addressed Jarod in a calm, quiet voice,  
  
"If I may be presumptuous, here's a little free advice, Jarod. If this… if she… is something you truly want, then I think it's time you consider disappearing for good. You could still have access to information inside the Centre via the 'normal' channels and continue to search for your mother. But we both know you could drop off the face of the earth if you wanted to. Because, take it from someone who learned the hard way, they will not let you have this."  
  
Stunned into speechlessness, he didn't respond at the time and never got another opportunity. For the remaining twelve hours he was in her company, Parker was largely silent and gave the distinct impression that she strongly preferred that he be so too. When they parted company – she alone and he with Ethan, whom he would deliver to the cabin his family was currently occupying in the Canadian Rockies – Parker issued a courteous, but not warm, thank you.  
  
On the flight up to Canada, Jarod advised Ethan that the whole mess could've been avoided had the troubled young man chosen to remain with the family right along, to which his brother replied that he did have "other family in case you've forgotten," tacking on under his breath but loud enough for Jarod to hear,  
  
"Well… I guess you probably have."  
  
* * * *  
  
What on earth had Ethan meant by that? What had gotten into everybody recently? And where the heck was Zoe? She'd already been gone for ten minutes. How long, he wondered feeling vaguely exasperated, does it take to…  
  
Something caught his eye; his heart raced. The crowd on the dance floor parted, giving Jarod a glimpse into the mass of sweaty, undulating bodies. He swallowed hard, setting his drink down harshly on the bar behind him, his eyes never leaving the dance floor.  
  
What the hell was *she* doing in New York? He and Zoe were there because Zoe had never been before and it was their first getaway since… Bar Harbor. This *wasn't* a coincidence, he thought angrily; New York was a *very* big town. Besides, when it came to him and Parker, there was no such thing, except that…  
  
She didn't appear to be here on business.  
  
She was dancing. My, oh my, she was dancing. Parker's eyes were closed as she moved in perfect time to the music, flowing so seamlessly, effortlessly that she appeared liquid, as though she weren't comprised of solid matter. But she was solid, alright, as evidenced by the look of bliss on the face of the young man behind her, against whose body she was grinding rhythmically. One of his hands rested on her hip, the other on the silk of her camisole – her button-down shirt was completely buttoned down – just beneath her breasts… but only *just.*  
  
For her part, Parker appeared to be off in her own little world, grooving to the music. She still hadn't opened her eyes, which was strange. He knew she had the instincts to feel when she was being watched. Jarod had been out dancing with Zoe a few times and had seen complete strangers share such intimacy on the dance floor. Perhaps she didn't even know the bold young man; maybe he was just a warm body to move against... nothing wrong with that… on the *dance floor* anyway.  
  
Vaguely irritated by that thought, Jarod found himself stepping into the path that had been cleared, which seemed to close around him as he moved into the humid mass of people. He worked his way slowly toward her, finding the press of young, warm, strange bodies to be more than a little disconcerting, but not altogether unpleasant.  
  
Reaching her, he stood dumbly for a moment then decided to speak when it occurred to him that it was virtually impossible to compete with the booming sound system. Parker still hadn't opened her eyes, her face a mask of serenity as she continued to sway to the rhythm. Intrigued he leaned in closer, his eyes roving across her glistening skin, until he could smell her. It was an intriguing combination of her perfume, which was a scent he knew quite well, and one with which he was rather less familiar, her sweat. Jarod instinctively flared his nostrils to drink in the alluring aroma.  
  
When had he started moving to the music, he wondered, and when had he closed his eyes? His first contact with her body was the brushing of knees as each rocked to and fro to the irresistible beat. Normally, he was a bit self-conscious dancing but this seemed so easy, with his eyes closed and everything pulsing around him. One, or perhaps both, of them were propelled forward so that a good deal more than their knees were now touching… ever so slightly… enticingly.  
  
Did she know it was him? She must know, he thought as he gingerly claimed her hip, more than prepared to slap the other man's hand away if necessary. Only it wasn't; the moment he made contact, he sensed his rival back off. Apparently there was some sort of etiquette at work here.  
  
Not that he gave that or anything else much thought when he felt her hand slide onto his body, just above the waistband of his jeans. It prompted the same tingly sensation he'd experienced the few other times she'd touched him since their détente had begun – the odd genial pat on the shoulder or amiable squeeze of the elbow. He'd always known he was physically attracted to Parker, considering it a completely predictable and wholly understandable response to her immense physical appeal. But that didn't mean…  
  
Jarod lost his train of thought as he felt her leg slip between his, bringing their bodies into full contact. A small moan escaped his lips as he felt her silk clad breasts brush roughly against his chest, her pelvis rocking into his in that savage, inexorable rhythm.  
  
*You leave your home for days and days…*  
  
That satiny, seductive voice crooned on. The song showed no signs of drawing to a conclusion as she repeated the line again…  
  
*You leave your home for days and days…*  
  
Parker suddenly spun in his arms, pushing back hard and eliciting a surprised grunt from him.  
  
*You leave your home for days and days…*  
  
She spun again, so quickly he could barely keep hold of her.  
  
*You leave your home for days and days…*  
  
And again, only this time he grabbed her forcefully, pulling her tightly to him and molding her body to his. And so they rocked and swayed, swayed and rocked with Jarod holding Parker from behind as her body ground relentlessly into his. Reveling in the glorious friction, he now fully understood the young man's look of bliss. It was now his hand that rested on the damp silk of her camisole, just beneath her breasts… but only just.  
  
*And I know…*   
  
*Said I know…*  
  
The other hand had found its way to her deliciously damp, bare belly, compliments of her low rise slacks. Detecting the small metal object in her belly button, he smiled as his cheek rested against her hair, which smelled fabulous, but then, it always did. When he felt her reach back to caress his sweat slicked neck and pull him into even closer contact, he became certain he was dreaming the whole thing. It couldn't possibly be real because if it was, then…  
  
*You got another woman somewhere…*  
  
Perhaps it would never end, he mused of the seductive song that was quickly becoming his all-time favorite musical composition. Parker turned around to face him once more, this time pressing her forehead to his. Again, her leg slipped between his and he swallowed hard at the sensation of the searing heat of her core against his thigh. And so they continued to move, slick bodies sliding against one another and building the tension. Like tectonic plates on the earth's crust, Jarod thought, coming together at fault lines… causing earthquakes.  
  
*You got another woman somewhere…*  
  
It felt like nothing else in the world existed except her body, which acted as the metronome setting the tempo for the music, for him, for everything. When he groaned at the sensation of her rock hard nipples grazing his chest, his lips brushed hers. Their noses bumped. He could feel her long eyelashes against his cheek. She reached up briefly to tenderly stroke a thumb over his birthmark. He was in heaven.   
  
*You got another woman somewhere…*  
  
Quite abruptly, Parker stepped out of his arms; he sensed her back away. Jarod opened his eyes to find her eyeing him warily. She glanced down at his groin and, following her gaze, he realized he was in no condition to be out on a dance floor, or anywhere else in public. Then, with a small, sardonic smile, she shook her head at him, just as the sultry voice repeated, for the very last time…  
  
*You got another woman somewhere…*  
  
And, without a single word, she turned and strode determinedly away from him, the sea of bodies parting for her as it had for him earlier. He took a step forward to follow and was about to call out when the path closed quickly behind her. Standing on his toes, he craned his neck in an attempt to locate her but couldn't. He frowned, his shoulders slumping.  
  
He had wanted to tell her that he got it, that he understood. He never should have said it because it wasn't true. Hell, he hadn't even known why he'd said it, well, until a few moments ago. But that didn't make it any less inaccurate because...  
  
He had only ever had one "best friend" in his life and that was Miss Parker.  
  
Jarod turned around slowly and waded out of the tide on the dance floor, quickly claiming a fortuitously available seat at a booth near the bar to conceal his physiological dilemma. His present mood was making quick work of it, though, and soon there would be nothing to conceal. As he took his seat, he looked up to see Zoe approaching. If she had seen any of what transpired on the dance floor, then he knew the night would be shot.  
  
"Man, you should have seen the line for the ladies room," she remarked cheerily as she took the seat across from him. "I swear it went on for miles."  
  
"They always seem to for ladies rooms, especially in bars," he replied evenly.  
  
"So, what were you up to for the last 20 minutes? Dancing with the kiddies, were you?" she inquired as she reached across the table to wipe the sweat from his brow.  
  
"A little… you mind?"  
  
"Nah," she replied with a shrug. "Not as long as I'm the one who gets to take you home."  
  
Zoe commenced chattering away about the nice people she'd met in line for the john. His stomach soured. She obviously hadn't seen anything and had no idea that Parker had been there. And, as sure as he was sitting there, Jarod knew he would never tell her.  
  
# # # #  
  
And off we go to part two… woo hoo! 


	2. The Friendship Cycle Two: Gray Areas

See part 1 ("Another Woman") for disclaimer.  
  
The Friendship Cycle Two: Gray Areas  
  
By Ginger  
  
*Pathetic…*  
  
Her father's voice thundered in her head as Parker swam laps in the Olympic sized pool. It was nearly 11:00 p.m. and residents of the Clearwater Beach condo complex had all gone inside, leaving her to work off her aggression in peace. The generosity of a friend had provided the means of escape after playing out a pitiful little drama on the dance floor of a downtown Manhattan nightclub. Too bad it was only temporary. She would have to fly back to Blue Cove early the next morning then head straight to work as though nothing eventful had happened over the weekend. As though she hadn't made a damned fool of herself because she was just so…  
  
*Pathetic…*  
  
In the roughly 48 hours since her arrival in Florida, she had barely left the complex, spending most of her time perched on the balcony of her temporary abode, walking the beach, or doing laps in the pool. Her only contact with humanity was the occasional stroll next door for a margarita or two at the Sheraton's pool bar, but that only constituted a short break from her relentless pursuit of self-flagellation.  
  
*Pathetic… Needy… Weak…*  
  
No need to be repetitive, Parker thought bitterly as she continued to lap the pool even though her muscles burned and her breathing was becoming labored. There were so many adjectives to describe her behavior over the past two months and all over two words, two stupid monosyllabic words.  
  
*Best friend…*  
  
At first it was just that familiar constricted feeling in her chest. It was the same feeling she'd always gotten when she sensed her father's disappointment and which, much to her chagrin, she continued to feel around him despite everything he'd done and even though she no longer believed a single word that came out of his mouth. So, she was pathetic on all accounts but this particular episode had to take the cake. As the hours, days and weeks rolled by, Jarod's off-handed remark stayed with her, hanging in the air and casting a pall over everything until she found herself in New York behaving like a jealous cheerleader hell bent on teaching the star quarterback a lesson he'd never forget.  
  
*Some lesson…*  
  
Ever the queen of biting off her own nose to spite her face, Parker now had to live with the knowledge of how it felt to be in extremely close proximity to a very grown up Jarod. The oppressive humidity of the tropical air evoked the friction created by their sweaty bodies, the tickle of the Gulf breeze reminiscent of his hands on her skin. No wonder she was spending so much time in the pool. Meanwhile, someone *else* had enjoyed the privilege of accompanying an *eager* pretender to a fancy Manhattan hotel room.  
  
*Some lesson…*  
  
It was her own damned fault, she thought as she ignored the excruciating cramping in her extremities and continued to slice through the water even though her chest felt as though it were about to explode. A year ago, when she had decided to finally cooperate with Jarod, both for Ethan's sake and in an attempt to complete her mother's elusive plan, that little voice in the back of her mind had warned of this. It had warned that if she let her guard down then he'd start to matter again, the way he had when they were kids. And that was a zero sum game because, given their history, the most one could reasonably expect of their *association* was basic civility. They had already achieved that much so there really wasn't anywhere else to go.  
  
She was fully cognizant of this; her brain was more than capable of rationally processing and filing it away for future reference. And, yet, she had allowed two simple words to be her undoing. She was beginning to feel lightheaded but pushed ahead even as she identified the annoyingly persistent sound now invading her thoughts to be her own gasping as her battered lungs protested the lack of oxygen. She was indeed pathetic…. pathetic, needy and weak.  
  
*Best friend…*  
  
The pain had ceased and Parker wasn't sure whether she was moving anymore. She could see flashing colors and figured that probably wasn't a good sign as she struggled to lift her arms to feel for the edge of the pool. Don't panic, she reminded herself then relaxed and allowed her exhausted body to float to the surface, remaining there until she regained enough strength to make her way slowly to the pool's edge. Reaching it, she hauled her arms over the side but couldn't muster the strength to climb out so she stayed there, closing her eyes and resting her cheek on the concrete.  
  
"Go away," she whimpered to the voice in her head, this time belonging to someone other than her father. Man, she thought, my brain must be pretty oxygen deprived for me to be having aural hallucinations.  
  
"Not until you answer me, Parker," the voice insisted, adding, "Are you alright?"   
  
"I'm hearing voices so I guess not," she remarked out loud with a raw, sardonic chuckle that quickly evolved into a surprised gasp at the sensation of hands on her torso, grasping firmly and lifting her out of the water.  
  
* * * *  
  
"Put me down," Parker protested feebly as she slapped weakly at Jarod's chest, her arms feeling like wet noodles. In truth, she liked the way it felt to be tucked securely in his strong arms with her barely clad body pressed firmly against his… and hated herself for liking it at the same time.  
  
"What am I going to do with you, Parker?" Jarod commented with a weary sigh as he set her down gently on the edge of chaise lounge and wrapped a towel around her.  
  
"You aren't going to anything with me!" she snapped, yanking the end of the towel from his hands and pulling it more tightly around her. "I was fine, just fine. Not ALL women need to be rescued, you know."  
  
"I know," he replied defensively as he took a seat across from her.  
  
They remained in awkward silence for a few moments with Parker turning her head to stare into the neon green of the lighted pool and Jarod looking down to track the progress of a large, black ant across the eighteen inches or so that constituted the "demilitarized zone" between them.  
  
"Do you think your 'best friend' would approve of your showing up here like this?" she remarked in a tone that betrayed rather less sarcasm and more vulnerability than she'd have preferred.  
  
Looking up to meet her eyes, he replied softly, "That's a very good question. If she wasn't so busy trying to DROWN herself, I could ask her."  
  
She averted her eyes for an instant before meeting his gaze again and shaking her head. "Jarod," she began then cleared her throat before continuing, "I owe you an apology. I never should have…"  
  
"Ah… ah… ah…" he interrupted, shaking his head. "Oh, no you don't! Miss Parker, the queen of control, acted on her 'feelings' for once. I know, for a genius, I can be pretty thick sometimes but, thanks to you, I've finally figured out what's been going on with us recently. I said something really stupid in Maine – now, why I said it in the first place is something I'll get to later – but the point is that you actually exhibited a normal human emotional response to it and I'll be damned if I let you off the hook now."  
  
"But, New York…" she started to explain. "It was just a stupid…"  
  
"Nope," he stopped her again. "Won't let you do that either. Wouldn't you figure that a man who's spent virtually all his life doing simulations ought to be able to distinguish what's real from what isn't? Okay, so sometimes I need to be hit on the head with a hammer for it to sink in, but eventually…" He paused, grinned and added, "It does."  
  
Burying her head in her hands, Parker groaned, "What the hell was I thinking?"  
  
Jarod stood and reached over to grab up her robe. Holding it open for her, he replied, "You weren't and, for a few minutes there, neither was I. The results were most intriguing, wouldn't you agree?"  
  
Parker lifted her head and stared blankly at him for a moment before sighing resignedly, hauling herself up and pulling off the towel covering her bikini-clad form. She managed to catch his appreciative smirk before turning around and smirking herself as she let him help her into her robe.  
  
* * * *  
  
"Make yourself at home," Parker called out sarcastically from the kitchen as she glanced into the living room to see Jarod lounging on the couch, the picture of relaxation.  
  
"I will, thank you," he shot back playfully.  
  
Sensing his genuine contentment at being there, she bit her lip, hesitating in the doorway before proceeding into the room and handing him a glass of wine without asking whether or not he wanted one. As he took it from her and leaned forward to place it on the coffee table, she sensed his eyes drinking in her appearance and suddenly felt exposed, underdressed.  
  
Her chosen attire had been the subject of some deliberation as she'd paced the bedroom and cast the occasional nervous glance at the tightly closed door as if expecting… lord knows what. She'd vacillated between covering every inch of her body, head to toe, and putting on what she would wear under normal circumstances, which is the course of action she had ultimately decided upon after her very brief, scalding hot shower. She had found it extremely nerve-wracking to be showering with him in the next room. The rational part of her figured it probably wasn't the first time, but it was the first time she did so knowingly, and it was all she could do to quell the butterflies in her stomach.   
  
Here she was, standing barefoot in a hi-rise beachfront condo, wearing a tank top and a pair of loose-fitting drawstring shorts with her hair still wet from showering. And here he was, in a t-shirt and jeans, sitting back comfortably in the dead center of the sofa, his long, slender legs disappearing under coffee table to cross at the ankles, his long, muscled arms extending in either direction. It all seemed so casual, so normal. Her stomach did a summersault.  
  
Parker drew a long sip of her wine then took a seat beside him, ignoring the impulse to sit at the far edge of the sofa, beyond the reach of his outstretched arm. In order to talk her way out of the mess she'd gotten herself into, she would need to appear cool, betray no weakness. She turned to look at him but he stared straight ahead as he offered, "Nice place," then leaned forward to pick up his glass with is left hand. She was, of course, sitting to his right.  
  
She watched intently as he lifted the glass to his parting lips then observed the bobbing of his Adam's apple as he swallowed. It made her feel restless. Without even realizing it, she turned her entire body to face him, tucked her legs up under her, and leaned against the back of the couch so that some of her wet tendrils spilled onto his outstretched arm.  
  
"A friend lent it to me," she explained before taking another sip from her glass.  
  
"So…" Jarod turned his head to meet her gaze. "Fritz Langer, international businessman, is a friend, is he?"  
  
"Yes," she said with a cool nod.  
  
"Nice place," he repeated.  
  
"Yeah, so you said."  
  
"Ever stayed here before?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Was Mr. Langer here at the time or was he in his Dallas office or, perhaps, Düsseldorf, where I believe he is right now?"  
  
She knew the implication of the question – it was obviously a one bedroom condo. Ignoring it she remarked, "You've been busy, Jarod."  
  
"Had to play catch-up… in the 'old days,' I'd have known all about him."  
  
"Oh." She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "You really have stopped snooping. I've been wondering."  
  
"It didn't seem right once you joined the side of the righteous." He chuckled when she shot him one of her trademark "spare me" looks then added, "He's got to be relatively new. How did you meet?"  
  
Parker hesitated a moment then muttered, "At work," into her glass before taking another sip and averting her eyes for a moment or two. When they settled back on Jarod, she noticed the visible tension in his jaw and drew a heavy breath, holding it in anticipation of his next comment.  
  
"Friend of Daddy's, is he?"  
  
"No," she managed in an even tone, probably because she had seen it coming. "He's a friend of MINE. The Centre DOES have legitimate contracts and he's a legitimate businessman. Feel free to snoop all you like if you don't have anything better to do with your time. I don't believe he has anything to hide, not even a wife and kids stashed away in a foreign capital."  
  
"Planning a move to the Continent then?"  
  
He's got a lot of fucking nerve, she thought as she unconsciously twisted a lock of damp hair around her finger. She opened her mouth to tell him as much but, instead, out came,  
  
"It is not a grand love affair, Jarod."  
  
And that was the absolute truth, although she hadn't had the slightest intention of sharing it with him. She and Fritz had hit it off immediately, went on a few dates when he was in town on business, and eventually fell into a comfortable, if intermittent, sexual relationship. It was her first since Thomas's death and she'd been more than content with its casual nature. In fact, they'd seen each other less than a half dozen times in the roughly ten months since meeting. The last time they'd been together was over three months earlier, in late February, right before he left for an extended stay in Europe. She didn't expect to see him again until late summer at the earliest and they had parted amiably, making no promises. They did speak by phone every week or two but the conversations were rather more friendly than romantic in tone. He was a kind, generous man and, when she'd called him from La Guardia Airport, rousing him from sleep on one of his rare days off to take him up on his offer to use the condo whenever she liked, he had been beyond sweet.  
  
"Then what is it?"  
  
Somewhat amazed at her seeming inability to become angry with him, Parker pondered a moment and, with a shrug, explained, "Sometimes people just want company, someone to pass the time with for a while. A relationship doesn't have to be a lifetime commitment to have value. I suppose it's one of those 'gray areas' we encounter in everyday life that you'll learn to live with the longer you're out here."  
  
With a wry smile, Jarod commented, "Oh, I think I'm living with them just fine as it is. Am I safe in assuming that lying to one woman in order to spend time with another woman in her boyfriend's apartment is another one of those 'gray areas?'"  
  
His remark caught her so off guard that she just stared, agape, for a beat or two before dissolving into hearty laughter. When he laughed along with her, she realized something, or perhaps finally admitted something to herself that she'd been repressing for ages, probably from the beginning. She *liked* him. She genuinely *liked* the man he had become or was still becoming, whatever. Pent up sexual tension was one thing; genuine regard was quite another.  
  
*Uh-oh* went the little voice in her head as she felt her body shift and her head come to rest on his outstretched arm. *Uh-oh* it went again as she felt him gently remove her glass from her hand and set it on the table. *Uh-oh* it went a third time as she felt his hand on her cheek, his body now in much closer proximity to hers.  
  
"What do you want from me, Jarod?" Parker asked, her voice sounding small, vulnerable.  
  
"I know you've asked me that question several times over the years," he replied in a tone that warmed her head to toe. "And I think I may finally have a straight answer for you."  
  
He leaned in even closer and she all but stopped breathing, her eyes closing as she felt him pull her into a bone fide, full-fledged caress. Then there was the sweet, gentle press of his lips to her forehead followed by the delicious vibration of his words as he spoke softly into her hair.  
  
"For one thing, I know what I DON'T want. I don't want to disappear. Not now anyway; I'm just not there yet. What I DO want is to have long conversations with you, about all sorts of things that don't have anything to do with the Centre, my past or yours. I want to watch a movie with you then argue about its merits over ice cream afterwards. And dance…" His voice appeared to lower an octave. "I want to do a LOT more dancing… with you. Oh, and I'd like to do all of this without placing my freedom, or our lives, in jeopardy."  
  
"Aye, there's the rub," Parker remarked sadly as she pulled out of his embrace. Smiling she added, "Now, most forty-year-old men would have said 'over coffee' or 'over a drink.'"  
  
With a diffident smile and a shrug, he said, "It isn't impossible, you know. Sure, it can't be every weekend but we've been successfully 'collaborating' for over a year and, if we're careful..."  
  
"Your dance card is pretty full these days," she interjected. "And I won't be someone's little piece on the side. There was a time that I could be, but not anymore."  
  
"I know," he responded, frowning. "And you have to know I would never ask you to be. Lately she's been hinting that she wants more, some sort of concrete commitment."  
  
"Not unreasonable under the circumstances. She has been on the lam for a year, not to mention her little run in with my idiot brother and Cox. And, of course, we know she hates my guts… again, hardly unreasonable, and for a whole host of reasons."  
  
"We both know there's only one," he said, reclaiming her cheek. "And believe me I've given this a lot of thought. In fact, I've thought of little else for the past 48 hours. I won't deny that she means a lot to me. I may even love her, although I'm still not entirely comfortable tossing that word around. Even with my family, it's…  
  
"I know," she offered with a nod.  
  
"But there is one thing about which I am positively certain: there is no way I can continue to maintain a relationship with her while you're in my life, regardless of HOW you're in my life. I know it hurts her and I hate that, but the underlying issue is WHY it hurts her, which brings me to my idiotic comment in Maine."  
  
"It doesn't matter, Jarod, I was just being…"  
  
"Human. We've already covered that, Parker. And I was being an idiot. I couldn't bring myself to refer to her as my 'girlfriend' when addressing you because, subconsciously, I find it highly inconvenient to have a 'girlfriend' when I'm in your company."  
  
"Oh God," she groaned, her expression evolving into one of profound mortification. "You've been talking to Sydney about this. Did you tell him… about Friday night? OH GOD!"  
  
"Hey," he soothed with a chuckle as he tilted her chin up. "It's okay. We can trust him."  
  
"Of course we can trust him; I'll just never be able to look him in the eye again."  
  
"Medical necessity, I'm afraid. Who knows what damage I'd have done if I'd acted without consulting him first. As usual, he helped me clarify things."  
  
"Like it's time to dump your girlfriend?" Parker eyed him suspiciously. "That doesn't sound like Sydney to me."  
  
"Like you said earlier, Zoe's made sacrifices for me. And I feel indebted to her, eternally so. But, as Sydney pointed out, it would be wrong to continue a relationship out of gratitude or obligation. It would be reprehensible, actually. And, as it appears to come down to her or you, I guess I've made my decision. But you know all this, Parker; you're the one who issued the ultimatum… when we were in Detroit with Ethan. I'm a little dense so you were forced to reissue it the other night. I'm sorry about that. Well, in truth, I'm not. I REALLY enjoyed the dancing; I'd just have preferred that it hadn't been an act of betrayal."  
  
Shaking her head, Parker advised, "It won't be easy for you, Jarod. You'll be breaking someone's heart."  
  
"I'm already breaking someone's heart; it might as well be a clean break."  
  
"But I can't promise…"  
  
"I'm not asking you to promise – or give up – anything… or anyone. I just… I need to have you in my life right now and I'll take what I can get. And, speaking of what I can get, I was wondering if I could crash here tonight."  
  
"Jarod…" Parker warned.  
  
"On the couch, of course," he clarified with a smirk. "With you tucked securely away in the bedroom. I'm booked in the Sheraton next door and I'm sure glad I prepaid my room because I made a bit of a spectacle of myself and would really prefer not to go back, for a few hours anyway."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"I was, um, watching you do laps with night vision goggles. Oh, rats, I left them on the balcony of my room."  
  
"Jarod…"  
  
"I know, but old habits die hard. Besides, I was trying to muster up the courage to come over here when I realized you weren't going to stop until you blacked out. I panicked and went flying out of the room, down fourteen flights of stairs and, here's the thing, through a crowded lobby to get to the beachside exit. Unfortunately, I took down a porter bearing a full room service tray along the way. I'll have to send the poor guy something. I feel terrible about it, particularly since I barely stopped to see if he was okay."  
  
"Way to be 'careful,' genius," she quipped, folding her arms.  
  
"Well, I wouldn't suggest we take in that movie in Clearwater," he replied with a grin.  
  
* * * *  
  
Jarod smiled serenely as he watched her sleep soundly in his arms. He was still on the sofa but she'd never made it to the bedroom, having drifted off with her head on his shoulder as he recited "The Velveteen Rabbit" to her from memory. He'd only just realized that the reason he'd even bothered to memorize it – years ago while on a pretend as a preschool teacher – was for the sole, expressed purpose of telling it to her one day.  
  
# # # #  
  
And on to part three… yippee! (Sorry, I'm feeling a little strange today.) 


	3. The Friendship Cycle Three: His Girl Fri...

See part 1 ("Another Woman") for disclaimer.  
  
The Friendship Cycle Three: His Girl Friday  
  
By Ginger  
  
"Jesus, Jarod!"  
  
Her knees may have been shaking but Parker's hands were steady as she clicked on the safety of her 9mm. It was 1:00 a.m. and she hadn't been expecting him. She hadn't been expecting anyone, which is why she'd crept downstairs with her gun drawn and flicked on the light to find Jarod sitting on her couch. He didn't turn to her or say a word; his only response was a heavy sigh. Shaking her head and glancing heavenward, Parker moved around the couch and set her gun on the mantle of the fireplace before turning her attention to him.  
  
"Jesus, Jarod."  
  
He looked terrible. He had a couple days worth of razor stubble which was not in itself a bad thing, she noted before quickly banishing the thought from her mind. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked pale. Clearly he hadn't slept in a while. A sudden chill went up her spine and she gently took a seat beside him before inquiring,  
  
"What's wrong? Has something happened? Your family…" She paused and swallowed hard. "Ethan?"  
  
"Fine," he replied in a low voice, barely above a whisper. "They're all fine." He turned and looked into her eyes. "I just needed to see you. It's been a…" He shook his head and glanced away before muttering, "…rough week."   
  
Parker studied him a moment then it dawned on her. There was an all too familiar flutter in her stomach, followed immediately by a twinge of guilt, and she asked, "You did it, didn't you?"  
  
He looked into her eyes again and nodded slowly. "It was horrible. She just kept crying and crying and repeating 'I knew it!' over and over again. I don't think I've ever seen anyone cry so hard. She was choking and hiccupping; she could barely breathe. When she finally calmed down, she told me that she loved me; that she fell in love with me the moment she saw me. Do you think that's true? Is that even possible? Can one person look at another and fall instantly in love?"  
  
"I… I don't know, Jarod," she stammered in response, unable to decide what was more ludicrous, the question itself or the fact that it was being asked of her. "I'm hardly the world's leading expert on affairs of the heart."  
  
Smiling sadly, his eyes traveled to where her hand rested on the seat between them. He gently took it in his and, brushing his thumb across her knuckles, offered, "I'm sorry, it was wrong of me to ask you, particularly …" He paused and expelled a heavy breath then lifted her hand and pressed it to his forehead. Rubbing his forehead tenderly against the back of her hand, he whispered, "…under the circumstances."  
  
The butterflies returned, as did the twinge of guilt, which this time was more like a tidal wave. Parker cleared her throat, signaling that she wanted her hand back, and Jarod complied. Eager to change the subject, such as it was, she inquired tentatively,  
  
"So… now what? Has she… is she going… home?"  
  
"Actually," he began, the tiniest wry smile gracing his lips. "That's my 'legitimate' reason for being here." His expression darkened and he continued, "Zoe's safety is of paramount concern to me. If anything were to happen to her because of her association with me, I wouldn't be able to live with myself."  
  
Parker nodded, musing that it was bad enough to be dumped by one's boyfriend. Winding up locked away in Renewal Wing afterwards would definitely be adding insult to injury.  
  
"What will happen?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.  
  
"I don't think we've anything to worry about. They're watching her house, of course. Hell, they're still watching Nia Perdon's house and that was years a…" Noting his look of shocked amusement she cleared her throat and continued, "Did you know that she was married in May of '99 and has an eleven month old daughter? It's actually Nia Stewart now."  
  
Raising an eyebrow and smirking, he replied, "I know. I haven't seen her… since. But I've kept tabs myself to make sure she was okay, although I do believe that any real danger was over the moment you climbed back into the black sedan."  
  
There was a pregnant pause as each stared knowingly into the other's eyes until Parker broke the silence. "As I said, they're watching her house and her family, waiting for her to rematerialize. They'll send a team to interrogate her, of course. If she appears genuinely hostile toward you, which is what they'd expect under the circumstances…"  
  
"No problem there," Jarod interjected with a frown.  
  
She sighed and continued, "They'll grill her for information about your activities and whereabouts over the last year. Of course, your family will have to move immediately from, and never return to, any location known to Zoe."  
  
"I know," he replied with another frown. "And I've already discussed it with them. They're all disappointed because they really love it up there in…"  
  
"Don't tell me, Jarod. I don't want to know anything about your family's whereabouts. Just because I'd never willingly reveal that information doesn't mean my 'employer' doesn't have 'alternative' modes of access to it."  
  
His frown evolved into a look of profound anxiety. He squeezed her hand and sighed, "I'm so tired of living like this."  
  
"I know."  
  
"It was absurd of me to think I could have a 'normal' relationship with someone else. Now that it's ended, the bizarre circumstances of my life just make it so much worse."  
  
"I know," Parker repeated, trying to ignore the unreasoning delight she felt in his use of the word "else."  
  
"I really made a mess of things… for Zoe… and my family. It was unfair of me to…"  
  
"You deserve a life, Jarod," she counseled softly. "And please try not to worry too much about this. When they're convinced it's really over between you, they'll continue to watch her but I'm pretty sure they'll leave it at that. The thing about them is that they strive to stay under the radar. If they went around guns blazing, picking off 'civilians,' they'd tend to draw unwanted attention. As it is, last year I made it clear to Daddy that the stunt Lyle pulled was 'unhelpful' at best. Ultimately, the moron didn't accomplish anything so he didn't score any points, which is all that matters to him in the long run. Just to be on the safe side, I'll keep an eye on things. Besides, Angelo's got our backs; he'll let me know if anything is amiss. I promise. You can trust me."  
  
He smiled and she could feel the warmth emanating from him as he said, "I know I can. Thank you, Parker."  
  
"You're welcome, Jarod." She returned his smile and there was, again, silence as each contemplated the other.  
  
After a time, Jarod inquired, "So, what do you want to do now?"  
  
"Do?" Parker repeated incredulously. "It's 1:30 in the morning."  
  
"And?"  
  
"AND you should be going, don't you think? Unless you want to crash here for a couple hours; you look like you could use some sleep. If you like, I'll set my alarm and wake you before the sun comes up."  
  
"Actually…" He began tentatively. "I was rather hoping…"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Since it is Friday night… well, Saturday morning…"  
  
"WHAT?"  
  
"I know you don't have anything planned for tomorrow."  
  
"What," she repeated warily.  
  
"I thought I might hang around. We could spend the day together. Obviously, we can't go out, but I happen to know that Lyle and Cox are off on a wild goose chase because I'm the one who provided the goose, so to speak. And your father's in…"  
  
"The Cayman Islands until Tuesday."  
  
"Well, what do you think?"  
  
"What are we supposed to do cooped up in the house all day?" Parker blurted out before she'd taken the time to weigh the implication of question then quickly averted her eyes.  
  
Grinning at the faint flush of her of cheeks, Jarod replied playfully, "Oh, we'll think of something," then tacked on with a shrug, "bake cookies, maybe. Speaking of which, do you have anything to eat? I'm hungry."  
  
Sighing, Parker hauled herself up from the couch and lumbered over to the mantle to retrieve her gun then headed out of the room. Before exiting she turned and asked,  
  
"By the way, how the hell do you waltz in and out of here undetected?"  
  
Digging into his pocket, Jarod produced and held up a key.  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"A key to your patio door."  
  
"I don't even think I have a key to my patio door."  
  
"I can have one made for you if you like," he offered cheekily.  
  
"Asshole," she retorted with a smile, adding, "Just out of curiosity, how many times have you been in here since your escape?"  
  
With a smirk, he replied, "I'll be happy to answer that question but, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather wait until you're NOT holding your gun."  
  
"Asshole," she repeated then turned around again. She headed up the hallway then stopped dead in her tracks and muttered,  
  
"Bake cookies?"  
  
* * * *  
  
"Mmmm..." Jarod hummed as he chewed. "Who knew Miss Parker could cook," he mumbled through a mouthful.  
  
"You don't get out much, do you? It's a roast beef sandwich, Jarod, not filet mignon."   
  
"Still..." he began, took a sip from his tall glass of water, and continued, "It's very good."  
  
"Thanks," she replied distractedly as she watched him devour the humble meal she'd prepared for him. She detected the same contentment that had been there in Florida and thought it ridiculous that all she'd had to do was stop being cruel to him and, as far as he was concerned, the slate was wiped clean. Meanwhile, he'd just dumped a woman who had never been cruel to him, one who had cared for him from the moment she'd laid eyes on him. Parker could believe that Zoe had felt love at first sight; she could believe it because she remembered the first time she had met Jarod, when they were kids, and how she had wished on the spot that she could make him her very own, whatever that meant to a ten year old girl. She had wished the same thing about the rabbits they'd played with, so who knows. Now he was in her home in the middle of the night, delighting in her company and a stupid roast beef sandwich, and all because she had simply stopped trying to deprive him of his basic human rights.  
  
"I need a drink," she announced. "Want one?" He shook his head in response as he grabbed the second sandwich she'd prepared.  
  
She heard the television come on as she padded over to the liquor cabinet and glanced over her shoulder to see Jarod flipping channels with one hand as he attacked his second roast beef sandwich with the other. She smiled and shook her head as she poured herself a glass of Glenlivet then returned to the spot next to him as Jarod continued to channel surf.  
  
"For crying out loud, PICK SOMETHING ALREADY!" she barked after about five minutes, noting to herself that she had demonstrated more patience than she'd have previously thought possible. Nevertheless, his surfing continued unabated.  
  
"That's it!" she bellowed after a couple more minutes. "Give me that!"  
  
She lunged for the remote. Popping the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth, Jarod took evasive action and held it at arm's length so that Parker was forced to reach across him to go after it. It was only when she found herself straddling his lap and could feel the silk of her top sliding across the cotton of his that she realized what he was doing.  
  
"Why you sneaky little bastard," she warned through clenched teeth, although her eyes told a different story.  
  
"Here," he said with a devilish smile, handing her the remote. "By the way, blue is definitely your color."  
  
Parker glanced down to find that she was indeed wearing blue, royal blue... pajamas. Glancing up to meet his eyes again, she raised her chin defiantly, narrowed her eyes and replied, "Thank you," before climbing off his lap and settling next to him. Feeling his arm go around her immediately, she smiled as she took her turn flipping channels.  
  
* * * *  
  
"Oh, God," Jarod groaned, "Did he just say 'the animal in me?' In my experience – which I realize is somewhat limited relative to my age – men do not speak in clichés, not even when in the company of an attractive woman. Do you think they might have been going for irony?"  
  
Chuckling, Parker replied, "I don't think so. This movie is really THAT bad."  
  
"So why are we watching it?"  
  
"Because sometimes there is nothing more satisfying than watching a cheesy horror flick and talking back to the screen, that's why. Oh and there's the guy; he's a hottie."  
  
"A hottie?"  
  
"A hottie. A biscuit. A fine piece of a…"  
  
"I get it. He's a little on the hairy side."  
  
"Poor boy… another 80s fashion victim. He's definitely made a bad hairstyle decision and that facial hair is unfortunate too," she observed, adding with a smirk and a sideward glance, "but he isn't the only man in recorded history to suffer such a fate. He more than makes up for it with that body, though. Bless your little heart, honey," she tacked on playfully, addressing the television screen.  
  
Jarod leaned in to speak softly into her ear, "I notice our 'hero' has dark hair and eyes. May I read that as evidence of a certain partiality on your part to dark hair and eyes?"  
  
"Oops! Oh well, we can turn it now," was Parker's response as, grinning mischievously, she leaned forward to grab the remote.  
  
"But it isn't over yet," Jarod protested.  
  
"The hottie has just been turned into a werewolf. More hair, less bod; there's no point in watching any further. Besides, I'd be willing to bet my gun that it doesn't get any BETTER."  
  
"Now there's something I completely underestimated," Jarod observed thoughtfully.  
  
"What?" Parker asked distractedly as she scanned the channels, trying to discern what they all were. It had been ages since she'd turned on the television.  
  
"How truly weird you are."  
  
"Ha, that's rich coming from you, Pez Head. Ah, finally! And it's just started too."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"'His Girl Friday'"  
  
"His girl what?"  
  
"'Friday.' Ever seen it?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"It's a classic; Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell."  
  
"So, the beautiful brunette that just strolled in is named Friday?"  
  
"No, you idiot, a 'girl Friday' is, well, it's an antiquated term, casualty of feminism I think, that means a woman a man can always depend on."  
  
"Well, I like the brunette, whatever her name is. She's got a sharp tongue."  
  
"So," Parker purred. "May I read that as evidence of a certain partiality on your part to brunettes with sharp tongues?"  
  
"It would appear so," Jarod replied with a sigh as he tightened his arm around her, pulling her closer.  
  
* * * *  
  
Parker awoke with a jolt to find that she and Jarod had both fallen asleep sitting up on her couch. Rubbing her neck, she picked up the remote and switched off the television then elbowed him gently in the ribs.  
  
"Jarod, wake up."  
  
"Hmrmrm"  
  
"C'mon, wake up. I'll make up the guest bedroom for you. You'll be more comfortable there." She started to get up only to find herself being pulled down again.  
  
"I'm fine right here," he mumbled as he began to maneuver them into a horizontal position on the, thankfully oversized, sofa.  
  
"This is a four-thousand-dollar piece of furniture, Jarod. At least take your shoes off," she advised with a sigh as she reached up to pull down the light cotton blanket draped over the back of the couch. He complied, kicking off his shoes as she covered them both with the blanket. Then she turned away from him to nestle against his body, spooning.  
  
"You don't mind, do you?" he whispered into her hair when all was quiet. "It feels good to be close to you."  
  
"I don't mind, as long as you're okay with the fact that, should the wrong person come barreling through my front door, we're both toast."  
  
"I can live with it," he said on a yawn. "Goodnight, Parker."  
  
"Goodnight, Jarod," she whispered back, smiling contentedly as she closed her eyes.  
  
He was dead to the world within a few short minutes. Parker lay awake in his arms, recalling the events of the evening as she enjoyed the sound of his deep, rhythmic breathing, the feel of his warm breath in her hair, the sensation of his heart beating against her back, and being surrounded by his scent, which evoked a delicious combination of masculinity and sweetness. She felt a lazy, distant rumble of desire, confirming what had been silently acknowledged between them as they curled up together on the couch. Jarod would probably never occupy her guest bedroom because someday, very soon, he would be invited into her sanctum sanctorum… her bedroom.  
  
She sighed and snuggled deeper into his strong, warm body. Replaying an earlier conversation, her eyes snapped open when it suddenly occurred to her that she would be a likely member of any team sent to interrogate Zoe. As she watched the faint pink of first light insinuate itself into the house through tiny gaps in the drawn blinds and curtains, she wondered if the seemingly hapless woman was slick enough to realize that a few well-placed words could send Parker on a one-way passage to Renewal Wing… or worse. More to the point, was Zoe vindictive enough?  
  
# # # #  
  
More to come… if you ask nicely! By the way, did anyone get the inside joke contained here? If you do then you have my deepest sympathy. It really is "make your eyes bleed" bad but I know why you sat through it! 


	4. The Friendship Cycle Four: Pech Gehabt

See part 1 ("Another Woman") for disclaimer.  
  
Author's Note: This chapter has been reposted with a new title reflecting a correction to my bad German. Thanks to TVRQuo, who was kind and generous enough to take the time to offer some constructive and very helpful criticism, both the title and Jarod's inner dialogue now make sense! Danke!  
  
The Friendship Cycle Four: Pech Gehabt, Herr Langer  
  
By Ginger  
  
Jarod awoke with a start, feeling more than a little disoriented by his surroundings. Although he recognized where he was immediately – it was a location very familiar to him – it took a moment to register that he had actually spent a night under Miss Parker's roof. More to the point, he had done so *with her permission* and, amazingly, with *the woman herself* tucked securely in his arms. He gazed at her sleeping form and smiled then gently tightened his arms around her.  
  
*Our second night together,* he mused. *This is becoming a bit of a habit for us. Maybe one day we'll move from the sofa to a bed.*  
  
He certainly hoped so and fully intended to lobby vigorously toward that end. His pulse quickened at the thought of it then he reminded himself of their conversation in Florida. He frowned slightly as he pondered the various complications surrounding the recent developments in his and Parker's relationship. Jarod had just played out that horrible scene with Zoe and, no doubt, would carry the guilt around for quite a while. Besides as far as he knew – he hadn't been able to bring himself to ask - nothing had changed with regard to Miss Parker's "association" with the accomplished Fritz Langer of Dallas, Texas, Clearwater Beach, Florida, Düsseldorf, Germany, and lord knows where else.  
  
In the weeks since he and Parker spent the evening together in Clearwater, he'd made a conscious effort not to resent the, by all accounts, generous and decent man, but try as he might Jarod could not prevent an unpleasant sensation from settling beneath his solar plexus whenever he thought about Parker and Langer together. In one of his darker moods he had frittered away an entire evening torturing himself by scribbling the words "Mrs. Parker-Langer" over and over again in one of his red notebooks.  
  
It was absurd, of course, and Parker would either be amused or downright offended if she ever found out. For one thing, she had already informed Jarod that her relationship with the successful German businessman was not serious. For another, he couldn't really imagine her ever being a society wife, or "Mrs." anybody for that matter. Sure he could be rational about it now, when she was cuddled up against him and he could feel her heartbeat. When he was sitting alone in a shabby motel room thousands of miles away, and staring at photographs of her lover that he'd downloaded from the business and society pages of various international newspapers, it was a different story.  
  
Fritz Langer appeared fit, handsome and distinguished. His hair was graying slightly at the temples but that didn't detract from his youthful, robust presence. Even in still photographs, Jarod had detected an air of continental sophistication; he recognized it immediately because it was a quality his mentor possessed that, despite the inordinate amount of time he'd spent with Sydney, hadn't rubbed off on him. Langer probably relaxed with fine wine and cigars, not ice cream and PEZ. He would enjoy drinking expensive single malt scotch with Parker; it wouldn't make his throat burn like it did Jarod's. Parker and Langer would look great together, all decked out for a black tie affair. Standing behind her, he would place a necklace around her long graceful neck: something he would have purchased for her, something classically elegant that she would love. She would smile that wide, beautiful smile then turn to kiss him.  
  
*Stop it!*   
  
Jarod frowned. He was doing it again and it was ridiculous. Instead of reveling in his good fortune he was conjuring images that made his stomach sour and blood thunder in his temples. It was ironic really: when Parker was cold, hostile, and intractable, Jarod felt confident, like he was on solid ground; now that she had warmed and accepted his affection for her, he sometimes felt overwhelmed by his insecurities, like he was trying to keep his balance on shifting sand. But maintain that balance he would and, if Jarod had his way, the venerable Mr. Langer would soon be history.  
  
It was only fair really; Jarod had seen her first. He knew that was a facile argument when it came to human relations but it was the best he could come up with. He and Parker went back forever; they'd been thrown together as children, torn apart for a couple decades, and thrown together again then dragged to hell and back a few times for good measure. And in spite of everything and everyone who had ever conspired to come between them, they were so good together it was almost frightening. Even in miserable, dangerous circumstances when they were at each other's throats, they *worked* on a fundamental level. Wasn't it incumbent upon them to explore that connection under more pleasant circumstances? Hadn't he earned the right to know what it would be like to *be* with her?  
  
*Pech gehabt, Herr Langer, but I saw her first.*  
  
An image popped into Jarod's mind of two children he'd once observed at a social gathering, a brother and sister if he recalled correctly. They were both eyeing the same piece of cake, one topped with a big blue flower made of that sickly sweet icing which, he had to admit, was rather tasty. The two appeared locked in stalemate until the girl made a sudden move, leaning forward to run her tongue across the expanse of the flower then sitting back and looking triumphant. Her brother crossed his arms and glared but clearly she had won the day, and the piece of cake. Jarod remembered thinking it an ingenious tactic at the time and, glancing at the woman now sleeping in his arms, raised an eyebrow as he wondered if it might be worth considering such a course of action.  
  
He became so engrossed with the concept that when Parker opened her eyes to meet his he was somewhat startled. His reddening face must have hinted at the content of his thoughts because she smirked then asked in a husky, sleepy voice,  
  
"Do I even want to know what's going on in that twisted little mind of yours?"  
  
"I very much doubt it," he replied with an impish grin.  
  
"I didn't think so," she said with a yawn then stretched and blinked up at him, looking positively adorable as she eased into full consciousness.  
  
*Pech gehabt, Herr Langer,* he thought again as he smiled affectionately at her.  
  
* * * *  
  
In attempting to prepare breakfast, Jarod was chagrined to find Parker's kitchen cupboards nearly bare and her refrigerator practically empty. In fact, if Broots hadn't brought over stuff to make sandwiches a few nights earlier, there wouldn't have been anything to feed the hungry pretender when he'd made his appearance in the wee hours of the morning.  
  
"All you have in your egg compartment are little packets of condiments from Chinese restaurants!" he complained, adding with a frown, "You'll have to go to the supermarket. We can't bake cookies without eggs."  
  
"Oh," she responded wanly. "I thought you were kidding about that."  
  
He wasn't. So after showering and dressing quickly while Jarod downloaded a cookie recipe from the Internet, she showed him to the guest bathroom. She needn't have bothered.  
  
"You'll find everything you need in there; soap, shampoo, fresh towels, and even a spare toothbrush under the sink," she offered amiably.  
  
"Do you still have that vanilla-scented body wash? It's very nice."  
  
"You didn't..." she seethed, her eyes flashing.  
  
"What can I say," he replied with a smirk. "I was in the neighborhood and, thanks to the Centre, it had been a few days since I'd had a chance to shower and change clothes."  
  
"Why you ba..."  
  
"Now, now, Miss Parker," he interjected with a typical Jarod grin then placed his hands on her shoulders to spin her around. "Off you go to market."  
  
She was about to whirl around again when she thought better of it. Shrugging, she left him at the bathroom door and strolled down the hallway. When she heard the water go on, an evil grin spread across her face as she bounced cheerfully down the stairs and headed straight for the half-bathroom on the first floor, which was directly beneath the guest bathroom.  
  
Snickering satisfactorily at the high-pitched yelp followed by a loud thud, Parker turned off the cold water tap and jiggled the handle of the recently-flushed toilet. She waited a beat for some sign of life and, upon hearing muffled swearing, raised an eyebrow and proceeded to check her hair and makeup in the mirror.  
  
"I think my work here is done," she muttered with a serene smile then headed for the foyer to grab her purse and car keys.  
  
* * * *  
  
"Bake cookies," Parker grumbled as she pulled into the garage.  
  
It had been a nerve-wracking trip to the supermarket in search of the items one must acquire in order to bake cookies. She had been on edge the whole time, irrationally suspecting that everyone around her, fellow shoppers and employees alike, could somehow construe on the basis of a quick glance into her shopping cart that she was aiding and abetting, thwarting her employer, and betraying her own father. More than once she'd been tempted to forget the whole thing and bail. Her life had taken on a theater of the absurd quality – with Jarod as director, of course.  
  
She made sure the garage door was completely closed before getting out of the car with two bags of groceries. Even that was enough to arouse suspicion as far as she was concerned. When she walked into the house, she was surprised to find it dark and quiet. She was about to call out Jarod's name but stopped herself when it occurred to her that there might be something wrong.  
  
*Maybe someone from the Centre showed up, he got spooked and split,* she thought with a frown.  
  
*Or maybe... maybe they somehow got wind of the fact that he was here and...*  
  
She got a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, her heart thundered in her chest, and her blood ran cold. Parker felt a presence behind her but before she could react, a hand closed over her mouth. Dropping the grocery bags, she attempted to take evasive action but her attacker was too quick, effectively pinning her arms and dragging her to the floor. After a brief moment of terror, she realized her assailant smelled distinctly of vanilla.  
  
"You really are an asshole," she remarked when he removed his hand from her mouth, deftly flipping her over to face him while keeping her pinned to the floor beneath him.  
  
"Hasn't anyone told you that it isn't nice to scald your houseguests?" he teased. Playfulness danced in his eyes, reminding her of their relative positions and compelling her to note just how damned good it felt.  
  
"That really wasn't very nice, Jarod," she scolded, sounding vaguely hurt. "I thought something might have..." She paused for maximum dramatic effect then added haltingly, "happened."  
  
"I'm sorry," he replied, a look of misery sweeping across his face. "I didn't mean to frighten you. I guess I wasn't thinking. That happens a lot when I'm around you."  
  
Parker's *hurt* expression evolved into a wide, devilish grin.  
  
"You really are evil incarnate," he observed, smiling down at her. Sliding her pinned arms up above her head, he leaned in and tacked on softly, "You know that, don't you?"  
  
"Yup," she responded, lifting her chin defiantly.  
  
He leaned in further, his lips hovering just above hers.  
  
"What am I going to do with you, Miss Parker?" he asked. His voice deepened, sounding something other than playful.  
  
"I... I," Parker stammered, her stomach fluttering. She was barely able to breathe.   
  
An alarm in her head screamed, *It's all going too fast!*  
  
Meanwhile, her body weighed in with a resounding, *Like hell it is!*  
  
"What?" he inquired as he searched her eyes. Jarod was seeking permission, although he seemed poised to proceed without it.  
  
"I thought you were willing to settle for whatever you could get... just friends," she replied, her voice soft, barely above a whisper.  
  
"Suffice it to say..." He moved in closer, until his lips brushed, feather-light, against hers.  
  
"I'm beginning to question the wisdom of that statement," he uttered against her mouth.  
  
Even minimal contact was enough to send a sensation akin to an electrical current through her body. Parker whimpered and craned her neck, lifting her head off the floor.  
  
Permission was granted.  
  
# # # #  
  
TBC… I'm sure you're all dying to know what kind of cookies they bake! 


	5. The Friendship Cycle Five: Karma

See part 1 ("Another Woman") for disclaimer.  
  
Author's Note: Posting fan fiction seems like a frivilous thing to do at a time like this but then I figured why not. It might seem like an odd pronouncement coming from a cynical girl like me but, the way I figure it, if our species has any future on this planet then it's love that's going to save us. This goes out to Tiffany (aka "Aldysgal") and everyone else out there who cannot be in the arms of the one they love tonight. Be safe everyone. Peace.  
  
The Friendship Cycle Five: Karma  
  
By Ginger  
  
*Yin and Yang…*  
  
Parker sat in stony silence, her eyes hidden beneath a pair of dark glasses as she stared out the window at the passing scenery: fields, cows, fences, barns.   
  
*Carrot and stick…*  
  
Lyle might have just said something, she wasn't sure. Didn't matter, though; she was in no mood to engage in idle chit-chat with the repugnant nitwit sitting beside her.  
  
*What goes around comes around…*  
  
Seated across from her in the limo they'd picked up at the airport, Sydney remained quiet… quiet and watchful… and she couldn't shake the feeling that he somehow knew everything about her and Jarod's day together.  
  
*There's a word for this…*  
  
If he did know then he must have worked it out on his own. Parker hadn't told Sydney a thing and very much doubted that Jarod had either. Maybe Freud had picked up something in Jarod's tone of voice the last time they spoke - an underlying current of happiness? Or maybe he'd picked it up from her. God, she hoped not. She glanced away from the window and briefly into his unreadable eyes, recalling the early days of their working relationship when she'd been inclined to underestimate the man she'd known most of her life. She then stole a quick glimpse at the sweeper seated next to him, one of Lyle's. Thanks to a security breach to one of the Centre's main servers, Broots got to sit this one out; lucky him. Parker redirected her attention to the pastoral scenes flying by her window.  
  
*Karma…what goes around comes around…karma.*  
  
* * * *  
  
For a woman who'd been kicking around as long as she had, and who had developed such a cynical view of sex so early in life, it was nothing short of miraculous. What started on the floor after he'd mischievously tackled her continued unabated for several minutes as they kissed and kissed and kissed until they were left bleary eyed and breathless, their lungs screaming from the lack of oxygen. He had rolled them over so she lay on top of him, and held her in a crushing embrace as they literally devoured each other, their tongues engaged in an exquisitely playful erotic duel. When they finally came up for air, Parker was graced with the sight of a thoroughly hot, flustered and desperate-looking pretender and was tempted to screw him within an inch of his life right there on the floor in the archway between the front hallway and den.  
  
Something - she wasn't sure what - stopped her. Perhaps it was anxiety about the rapid pace at which her and Jarod's relationship was progressing or guilt over her role in precipitating the end of his and Zoe's relationship but, whatever it was, it compelled Parker to raise an eyebrow, nod in the direction of the forgotten grocery bags, and state,  
  
"I hope there's an egg or two in there we can salvage. I want cookies."  
  
Jarod blinked up at her for a few beats then smiled and nodded, stealing one more kiss before releasing her and allowing her to get up then quickly rising, picking up the grocery bags, and following her into the kitchen. They worked together companionably, occasionally exchanging a conspiratorial grin as they prepared the dough for oatmeal cookies with semi-sweet and white chocolate chips. Jarod had chosen this recipe because he loved the crunchy texture of the oatmeal and because, unlike the majority of oatmeal cookie recipes, it did not call for raisins. Parker was not a big fan of raisins.  
  
Baking the cookies proved a bit more problematic since the timer on her oven was broken. It might have been broken for years for all she knew. Regardless, it meant that Jarod and Parker were compelled to remain nearby. He leaned back against a counter, crossing his arms at his chest and folding his legs at the ankle while she foisted herself into a seated position on the counter opposite him, grasping the edge with both hands and leaning forward slightly.  
  
"Nothing to do but wait," he commented, his eyes searing into hers.  
  
"Guess so," she replied, locked in his smoldering gaze.  
  
Parker held her breath in anticipation as Jarod crossed the space between them in a couple swift steps. The next thing she knew their lips were locked, his hands winding around her body, caressing as she wound her legs around his waist. The back of her head was pressed firmly against the solid oak cabinet behind her but it didn't hurt, or if it did she was spared the discomfort, her neurotransmitters overburdened by the task of relaying other signals to her brain.  
  
Neither of them noticed as the minutes ticked away and, therefore, neither had any idea that the cookies had been in the oven for twenty minutes instead of the requisite twelve. That is until the smoke alarm went off, invading their steamy reverie. Standing next to Jarod as they both stared down at the charred remains of the first batch of cookies, Parker sighed and remarked,  
  
"It's time to call in forensics."  
  
Chuckling he spun her into his arms and kissed her, his lips wandering from her mouth to her jaw to her earlobe and back to her mouth. She breathlessly chided that they'd never get the cookies baked, which Jarod took as a sort of challenge. Bearing a look of steely determination, he released her, slid the second batch into the oven, set the alarm on his wristwatch then took her firmly by the hand. Tugging her into the breakfast nook, he yanked one of the chairs from around the small wooden table, sat down, and pulled her onto his lap.  
  
"You've just got to admire a man with top-notch problem solving skills," Parker purred as she leaned in to capture Jarod's bottom lip between her teeth.  
  
The rest of the baking went without a hitch and turned out to be a lot more fun than she'd expected. Afterwards, they cleared away the baking supplies, leaving the cookies to cool on a rack (with Jarod swiping one whenever he passed by) while Parker prepared a simple but tasty pasta dish for dinner. She was far from hopeless in the kitchen, the fact that she didn't spend much time there being more attributable to a lack of will than a lack of ability.  
  
At her request Jarod opened a bottle of wine and poured them each a glass then hovered closely behind her. Feeling his warm breath on the back of her neck, Parker smirked. She knew he was itching to grab her again and could sense him struggling to control himself because she had threatened egregious bodily harm should he do anything to "distract" her and make her ruin dinner after she'd made the supreme sacrifice of trudging through the supermarket to acquire the ingredients.  
  
Jarod remained on his best behavior throughout the meal, teasing Parker with backhanded compliments about her cooking, things like: "I can't believe it: this is actually edible!" All the while he charmed her with those deadly brown eyes and that lethally crooked smile of his, both of which truly should be outlawed, she mused with a sigh. He positively oozed contentment and, loathe as she was to admit it because in her experience happiness generally preceded disaster, she was feeling pretty content herself.  
  
Dessert, which consisted of coffee and, of course, cookies was served in the den, at which time it was decided that Jarod had been a good boy long enough. Sitting side by side, they leaned into each other to exchange sweet, lingering kisses between sips of coffee and mouthfuls of cookie. Parker detected a slight change in Jarod's demeanor; his kisses were less urgent, almost lazy. His face bore a relaxed, sleepy expression that rather reminded her of a milk-drunk bear cub. That's when it dawned on her; they had opened a second bottle of wine during dinner. She was feeling no pain herself and knew that Jarod didn't regularly imbibe and therefore wouldn't have developed much of a tolerance.  
  
"You're buzzed," she teased, grinning.  
  
"Hmmm?" he replied with a dopey, lopsided smile.  
  
Parker set down her coffee cup and unburdened Jarod of his then, to his delight, climbed onto his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck, and proceeded to plant tender kisses all over his face: to his forehead, eyelids, the tip of his nose, the corners of his mouth, jaw, cheeks, that absurdly appealing birthmark.  
  
"What are you doing?" he whispered shyly, his face coloring slightly.  
  
"What... do... you... think... I'm... doing?" she offered between kisses.  
  
Pressing his forehead to hers he sighed and confessed, "I've never had a day like this before."  
  
Pulling back, Parker raised an eyebrow and remarked, "So, baking cookies is a new experience for you, eh?"  
  
He lowered his eyes and, with a diffident smile, muttered, "You know that's not what I mean."  
  
She did know because days like this were rare and precious. Jarod had never felt the agonizing euphoria of first love, the delightful insanity of adolescent infatuation. He'd never experienced falling for a girl at summer camp, making her his whole world for a week, and sneaking off into the woods at every possible opportunity to make out. He'd entered the world as a man and Parker rightly assumed that the women he'd encountered had skipped the previews and headed straight for the main attraction (not that she could blame them).  
  
It was yet another experience the Centre had robbed him of: that all-consuming yearning, like you were dying and the other person's lips held the only cure, that feeling that you could never get close enough but you had to try otherwise you might go crazy. And that's why, tempted as she was, Parker had not had her way with him. She wanted to be the one to bestow this gift to Jarod: to show him how wonderful it could be to get lost in the act of kissing just for the sake of kissing.  
  
Not that it constituted any sort of sacrifice on her part. The way he moaned her name and chased her lips when she'd pull away for even an instant was her reward, as was that beautiful rumbling sound that emanated from deep within his chest as he crushed her to him and kissed her longingly, desperately, as though his very existence depended on it. Parker felt truly wanted, desired in a way that was so different from what she'd experienced in the cold, impersonal "hit and run" encounters that had comprised so much of her sex life. True to form, Jarod had returned her gift tenfold and it was perfect.  
  
Perfect as they ended their day curled up on the couch, bodies pressed together and exchanging humid heat as they shared drugging, languid kisses. Hands skittered across heated flesh and sweat-dampened clothing, unhurried and tender as they explored and teased, issuing silent promises of things to come until, sleepy from dinner and wine and kissing, they drifted off together. It was so slow and sweet and perfect.  
  
* * * *  
  
Perfect, Parker thought sardonically as the limo pulled onto the long gravel driveway and the house came into view, a bright red convertible parked in front of it. And now it was time to pay the piper.  
  
*Because what goes around comes around… karma.*  
  
* * * *  
  
Parker showed no fear. Neither did Zoe.  
  
"If you don't mind our asking, why have you returned home?" Lyle inquired in a courteous tone, as though there were nothing at all bizarre about a former captor and captive exchanging common courtesies.  
  
"I do mind, you sick bastard. It's none of your goddamned business," replied Zoe, her arms folded tightly at her chest as she sat rigid on her sofa. Parker had taken a seat in an armchair and Sydney stood behind her. Idiot that he was, Lyle continued to pace back and forth in front of Zoe. The sweeper and driver remained outside.  
  
"We all agree that Mr. Lyle is, indeed, a sick bastard," Parker interjected coolly. Lyle scoffed. "And we truly regret his *unfortunate* behavior toward you last year. But we would very much appreciate it if you would answer our questions. The sooner you answer, the sooner we'll be out of your hair."  
  
"Why should I answer any of your questions? Who are you people, anyway, to be asking me?"  
  
"Miss..." Sydney cleared his throat and continued, "You may think that we mean to harm Jarod but let me assure you that his safety and well-being are of utmost concern to us."  
  
"I'm sure," Zoe replied icily.  
  
"I am afraid," Sydney continued, "there is a lot you do not understand about Jarod and..."  
  
"Oh," Zoe interrupted, casting Parker a steely glare. "I think I understand everything just fine."  
  
Parker didn't flinch but casually glanced up to see if Lyle had noticed. He hadn't appeared to as he stood with his hands on his hips, looking impatient and bored, like he very much wanted to be elsewhere. Join the club, she thought, then commented,  
  
"She doesn't know anything. Jarod may be planning something, something big, and he sent her back here to keep her out of harm's way."  
  
"I'm back here because it was time to come home... period."  
  
"Trouble in paradise?" Lyle asked with a predatory grin.  
  
"Again, none of your goddamned business," Zoe muttered.  
  
"With all due respect, Zoe," Lyle responded in a voice dripping contempt. "Jarod *is* our business."  
  
"Yeah, well, that's too bad because you'll never succeed." Looking directly into Parker's eyes, she warned, "Even if you catch him, you'll never be able to keep him."  
  
Again, Parker didn't flinch but her stomach soured at Zoe's words, misery uncoiling to slither through her like a poisonous serpent. "I think we're through here," she announced then rose, perhaps a little too quickly, from her seat.  
  
"It would appear so," Lyle concurred with an exasperated sigh.  
  
They had made it as far as the porch when a voice called out, "Miss Parker, got a minute? I did remember something."  
  
Setting her jaw, Parker responded, "Absolutely," then turned to reenter the house. When Lyle made a move to follow her, Sydney stepped into his path and said, "With all due respect, Mr. Lyle, might I suggest that Zoe may feel a bit more comfortable to speak freely when not in the company of the man who abducted her at gunpoint?"  
  
Rolling his eyes Lyle complained, "I can't believe how bent out of shape everyone gets over a little, harmless kidnapping. You'd think we *tortured* her or something." Shaking his head, he turned and bounced cockily down the stairs.  
  
* * * *  
  
"Well," Parker stated in an even tone. "Here I am so say what you've got to say."  
  
"You really are too much, you know that?" Zoe remarked bitterly. "It isn't bad enough that you stole his life, but you, all of you..." She nodded in the direction of Sydney, who remained on the porch waiting for Parker. "You had to take everything."  
  
"I am acutely aware of what was done to Jarod," Parker stated matter-of-factly, resolved not to sound defensive.  
  
"Don't you mean what *you've* done to him? All of you and yet he..." Zoe looked as though she might cry then and for the first time panic rose in Parker, compelling her to blurt,  
  
"I think we've taken up enough of your time. You have my word that neither you nor your family will be harmed."  
  
Shaking her head angrily, Zoe regained her composure and continued, "I may not be anyone special. I'm just a girl Jarod met along the way and had some laughs with. But can you imagine the look on his father's face when Jarod has a bad day or needs advice about something and gets on the telephone with someone else?" She again gestured contemptously at Sydney. "Well I *can* imagine it because I've seen it. And I know how he feels because I watched Jarod wander off a hundred times and flip open that stupid cell phone of his. It's like he's in another world - like he's got an invisible wall around him, shutting us out and letting you, the people who ruined his life, in."  
  
Anger seethed in Parker, as much because of the truth of Zoe's words as anything. Forcing her voice to remain controlled, she observed, "You have no idea how complicated this is, all that Jarod's been through, or the role Sydney has played in his life."  
  
"Maybe not," Zoe challenged. "But I do know one thing: someday you'll blow it - because people like you always do - and then you'll know what it's like to lose him. Now, if you don't mind, I'd very much appreciate it if you'd get the hell out of my house."  
  
Parker sniffed, curling her lips into a sardonic smile as she nodded and, without another word, turned and exited the house. Pulling her sunglasses out of the pocket of her suit jacket, she slid them on and announced,  
  
"C'mon Syd, let's blow this chicken shack." His response was a quick nod then he followed dutifully behind her down the steps and toward the car.  
  
"Well?" Lyle inquired as they climbed into the limo.  
  
"His family had a place in the Canadian Rockies. Alberta, she thinks. We'll send a team up there but they'll be long gone by now."  
  
"She thinks?" Lyle said, shaking his head incredulously. "She *was* there, wasn't she? I am a little surprised at our lab rat. One would think that Mr. Sensitive would prefer the company of a woman with an I.Q. above that of a common house plant."  
  
Parker met Sydney's eyes for an instant then, allowing a small smile to form, she muttered, "One would think."  
  
Gazing out the window as the vehicle started to move, she looked forward not back as she enjoyed a moment, albeit fleeting, of feeling something akin to genuine affection for her brother.  
  
# # # #  
  
TBC… Phew, I'm glad that's over! 


	6. The Friendship Cycle Six: The Mountain's...

See part 1 ("Another Woman") for disclaimer.  
  
Author's Note: To any practitioners of yoga out there, please excuse Miss Parker's remarks. They are intended to reflect what *her* attitude - as someone completely ignorant of the practice - would be and do not reflect the author's views of this respected, ancient discipline. I myself practice yoga and find it very rewarding, although I wouldn't mind trying Parker's method of relaxation!  
  
Another Author's Note: The rating of this fic (PG-13 currently) will likely go up with the next installment. In fact, I'm not entirely sure that it shouldn't have gone up with this one. There's nothing graphic here, but if the mere suggestion of responsible sex between consenting adults sends you running for the hills then I recommend that you go elsewhere. Consider yourself duly notified.  
  
And Let's Make It Three: Apparently, it's not only my German that needs help. It's only one word, but it's an important one, so I'm reposting this. Thanks, D!  
  
The Friendship Cycle Six: The Mountain's Out  
  
By Ginger  
  
The Cloud Room  
Camlin Hotel, Seattle  
  
"Smile," the bartender cheerfully advised as he placed a second drink in front of Parker. "It's a beautiful summer day and the mountain's out."  
  
"How nice for the mountain," she replied icily. Shoving aside the glass she'd just emptied, she took a sip of her fresh drink.  
  
The bartender glanced at Broots, who simply shrugged and took a sip from the beer he'd been nursing for twenty minutes. After what he deemed a suitable interval, he commented tentatively,  
  
"I... I guess it really was a rookie mistake on our part, to allow Jarod to lure us into the middle of the International Fountain like that."  
  
Parker didn't respond as she stared off into the distance, as if gazing into an unseen horizon. He continued,  
  
"We're both pretty aware of our surroundings most of the time. I mean, we have to be. I can't believe I missed the water jets embedded in the concrete, not to mention all the kids hanging around in bathing suits."  
  
She expelled a deep breath and nodded slowly as she turned the sweating rock glass in her hands. Broots went on,  
  
"I guess that suit is probably ruined, not to mention your shoes. Fortunately, my clothing is pretty durable."  
  
Parker turned to him, glanced down at his attire, raised an eyebrow, and faced forward again then took another sip from her drink. At least she's going a little slower on the second one, Broots noted with some relief. Silence reigned for a few beats before he proceeded softly,  
  
"That's not it, is it? That's not what's bothering you. Something's been bothering you for weeks. If there's something... some kind of trouble... anything I can help you with..."  
  
"Thank you, Broots," she interrupted, turning to him with a small but genuinely warm smile. "I've just been feeling a little world weary lately, that's all. And, you're right, we played right into Rat Boy's hands this morning and, you're right, it really was a rookie mistake. But we won't let that juvenile pain-in-the-ass do it to us again, will we?"  
  
"No, Miss P., we won't," Broots replied as he returned her smile.  
  
"Excuse me," a cocktail waitress interrupted. "You are Miss Parker, aren't you?"  
  
"Who wants to know?" Parker responded, turning to give her a vaguely contemptuous look.  
  
"I have something for you," the young woman stated, ignoring her tone and facial expression and handing her a small envelope. "Have a nice day," the waitress tacked on with faux sweetness then stepped quickly away from them.  
  
Parker just stared at the envelope for a time, running her fingers lightly over it. She appeared to be a million miles away.  
  
"Aren't you going to, you know..." Broots gently prodded as he nodded at the item in her hands.  
  
Parker did not answer but slid off her stool and, slipping the envelope into her pocket, turned to him and announced,  
  
"You know, Broots, the bartender is right. It's still early, it's a beautiful day, and I think you've earned a little R&R. Why don't you head down to the Market and watch the guys throw fish around. I hear there's a candy store near there that specializes in outrageous candied apples. You can have some shipped home for Debbie. Visit the Space Needle, check out the first 'Starbucks,' whatever."  
  
"Huh?" He looked utterly stupified.  
  
"I'll meet you in the lobby at 7:00 a.m. sharp. Don't make me wait." With that she headed out of the bar.  
  
"But, Miss P..." Broots called after her.  
  
Just before she turned the corner to head for the elevator, Parker called back over her shoulder, "You heard the man: the mountain's out! For crying out loud, Broots, live a little!"  
  
Then she was gone.  
  
"Live a little?" He muttered under his breath as he turned to stare perplexedly at his half-finished, warming microbrew.  
  
"That lady," the bartender inquired in a confidential tone. "Is she your boss or something?"  
  
"Something," Broots responded wearily without looking up.  
  
"Must be stressful work you do," the bartender observed casually in that way those in his profession have of showing compassion without prying.  
  
"You have no idea," Broots remarked distractedly then brightened. Looking up he asked,  
  
"Hey, what's this I hear about outrageous candied applies?"  
  
* * * *  
  
"Well, there it is," Parker whispered as she stood on the deck of the ferry. Leaning against the railing, she gazed south over the deep blue water of Puget Sound toward the peak towering in the distance. Everything glittered in the late afternoon sunlight on a near-perfect summer day as she joined throngs of people on their weekday commute home.  
  
Mt. Rainier is a volcano, she thought wryly, and it is *not* extinct. One good eruption and all these healthy looking people with their coffee stands, cutting edge techie jobs, and cool urban lifestyles would be toast - the good life reduced to a pile of smoldering ash in the blink of an eye.  
  
*Someday you'll blow it - because people like you always do - and then you'll know what it's like to lose him.*   
  
Depending on her mood, which pretty much changed by the minute, she'd been both longing for and dreading this: the day when she'd see him again. It had been nearly three weeks since her encounter with Zoe, and almost a month since she and Jarod had spent the better part of a weekend sequestered in her house. It was already the end of July. Summer was rolling by at pretty fair clip: the summer of her discontent.  
  
She kept coming back to it because there really was no way around it: Zoe had a damned good point. Not that Parker had any intention of doing something ridiculous like hurling herself at Jarod's feet to beg his forgiveness on behalf of herself, her family, or the Centre. As far as she was concerned it wasn't her place to apologize on anyone's behalf, and she wasn't seeking his forgiveness any more than he appeared to be seeking her remorse. The dynamics of their relationship were far more complex. There was the fundamental understanding of each other that had always been there, the thin thread of trust that somehow over the years had strengthened to heavy gauge rope, and the chemistry - powerful, exciting, and even a little frightening.  
  
On the other hand, given their totally fucked up history it also seemed ludicrous to her that they could simply ease into a healthy, if by necessity illicit, relationship. She also couldn't help but question her own motives. Maybe this was, in fact, at least partly about penance. Perhaps it would be her act of contrition to offer something she knew he coveted: her body. Toss in the fact that if they were ever found out she'd likely end up in Renewal Wing, or worse, and you had all the ingredients for a perfect martyrdom. Maybe she was her mother's daughter after all.  
  
Parker turned away from the scenery and wrapped her arms tightly around her waist. Her stomach pinched. Such bitter, cynical thoughts had plagued her ever since her conversation with Zoe, particularly on quiet evenings when she was alone. Consequently, her scotch consumption had increased significantly and sometimes approached levels not reached since the days just after Tommy's death.  
  
The ferry's horn blew and she looked up to see that it was just about to dock. She was seized by a brief, but nonetheless unpleasant, wave of panic and mused that it was perhaps her sanity she should be questioning. She could simply remain at the terminal and take the next ferry back to Seattle. Then she could go back to the hotel, order room service, and get rip-roaring drunk.  
  
That was no good, Parker concluded as she reached back to grab the railing, steadying herself against the jolt as the ferry docked. Jarod would only come to her later and demand to know why she had stood him up. He'd look wounded and vulnerable and she would feel his hurt feelings as though they were her own. And she'd have no choice but to ease his pain if only to ease her own so the end result would ultimately be the same.The gangplank was lowered and she ambled off the ferry with everyone else, looking as they did, like it was something she did everyday.  
  
The only instruction contained in the note was to take the 5:30 ferry to Bainbridge Island, so Parker stood at the edge of the parking lot and surveyed the scene as commuters either climbed into their own cars and drove off or slipped into the passenger seats of waiting vehicles. She did her best not to look anxious, adopting the air of someone casually waiting to meet a friend. As the lot began to thin she spotted a car in the far corner and walked briskly toward it.  
  
It was a Boxter, newer than hers, in metallic midnight blue. The windows were heavily tinted so she couldn't make out the features of the figure behind the wheel. But then, she didn't need to. Pulling open the passenger door, she leaned in and glanced over the top of her sunglasses at the driver, who returned her gaze over the top of his sunglasses.  
  
"'Boxter Red' interior," she observed. "Very nice."  
  
"I thought you'd like it. Once we're on the road, away from all these people, we can switch places if you like. Get in."  
  
As soon as Parker had her door closed Jarod leaned over to place a tender, slightly lingering kiss to her lips - one that conveyed affection but not entitlement. It was very sweet but did nothing to ease her pinching stomach. If anything, it pinched more.  
  
"Hi," he whispered.  
  
"Hi," she whispered back then turned to look out the window.  
  
Leaning back into his own seat, a smiling Jarod started the engine and they were off.  
  
* * * *  
  
"Would it be impolite to ask what we're doing at a plant nursery?" Parker inquired as she followed Jarod up a tree-lined path.  
  
"The weather's so beautiful I thought it would be nice to eat outdoors. Since it probably isn't a good idea to be seen together at one of the restaurants downtown, I needed a Plan B. The gardens closed at 5:30 so we have the place to ourselves."  
  
"Place? What place?" she muttered. It dawned on her that she was on a date with Jarod and that realization left her feeling awkward and self-conscious, which in itself irritated her slightly.  
  
They rounded a bend and a small, attractive wooden building came into view. It was surrounded by a deck with chairs and umbrella-topped tables. Jarod turned to face her, grinned, and stretched out his hand in a grandiose gesture.  
  
"Welcome to the Rose Cafe."  
  
"Are we breaking and entering?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and folding her arms at her chest.  
  
Rolling his eyes, he replied, "Of course not," then reached for Parker's hand and tugged her up the steps to the wooden deck as he explained, "I once helped out a guy, a television cameraman who was injured in a gang shooting. I gave Ken a call when I got to town, explained my predicament..."  
  
"Explained?" Parker interjected warily and stopped dead in her tracks.  
  
"I didn't go into specifics. I just said I'd like to find a quiet, private spot to take a special friend to dinner." He turned to look knowingly at her. "I haven't managed to stay free for five years by being careless. C'mon," he coaxed, pulling her arm. She sighed and allowed him to drag her across the deck to a counter over which the food must be served during business hours as he continued, "So Ken brought me out here to meet his uncle Junkoh, who runs this place with his wife, Chris."  
  
Jarod finally released her hand and, disappearing behind the counter for a moment, returned with a stool, set it down, and literally lifted Parker onto it. He then turned the swivel seat so that she would face the counter before stepping back behind it and setting to work on something that appeared to relate to dinner. Parker said nothing but just stared at him, amused, but only faintly because that was all she could muster. All the while, he went on,  
  
"They're very nice people; they were generous enough to arrange for the staff here to prepare a delcious meal for us - everything they make is good and, take my word for it, I've tried just about everything - so you won't even have to eat my cooking."  
  
"Well that's a relief," she remarked, trying to sound nonchalant even though she still hadn't managed to will herself to relax.  
  
"Indeed it is," he chirped. He, on the other hand, didn't appear at all tense. Happy as a big, slobbering puppy pretty much nailed it.  
  
"Oh, and I'm sorry about earlier today," he offered as he began scooping things out of containers and onto plates.  
  
Parker shrugged. In truth, she'd forgotten all about it. "Probably just as well. We need to keep up appearances and it's been ages since you ruined an article of my clothing."  
  
"Awww, it takes all the fun out of it if you're going to be gracious about it," he teased.  
  
She didn't reply because she couldn't think of anything to say. Parker glanced down at her hands, folded tightly and resting on the countertop. She could feel Jarod watching her, studying her, reading her. She heard him emit a heavy sigh, set down a kitchen implement, and walk around the counter. Then she felt his hands on her hips and found herself spinning around again to face him.  
  
Gazing intently into her eyes, he began softly, "What Zoe said to you..." In response to her expression, which made it quite clear that she had no intention of going there, he added, "Whatever it was, you need to remember that she's angry and hurt. You also need to remember that you're not the one who hurt her. I am, and I'm the one who has to live with it. Of course, the whole mess *could* have been avoided if you'd started being nice to me sooner," he tacked on with a smile.  
  
Parker struggled to keep a grudging smile from appearing. Failing, she looked away from him and muttered, "I've always hated it when you do that."  
  
Grasping her by the chin, Jarod tilted her face toward his and asked, "Hate when I do what?"  
  
"Know what I'm thinking exactly when I'm thinking it, sometimes before."  
  
With a cheeky smile he responded, "What can I say; for a while there it was necessary for my survival. You're a heck of a lot tougher than I am so I had to be crafty."  
  
"Damn right I am and you'd do well to remember that."  
  
"Yes, ma'am," he whispered then wrapped his arms around her, pulled her to him, and kissed her deeply. It was the kind of kiss that one had no choice but surrender to, so she did. The tension seeped from her body as she wrapped her arms around his neck and curled her legs around his to hook her ankles behind his knees. She kissed him back in earnest.  
  
* * * *  
  
"Dessert?" Jarod offered hopefully.  
  
"No thank you. I'm about ready to burst as it is." To his poorly concealed look of disappointment, Parker added with a smile, "But you go ahead, please."  
  
He hopped up from the table and disappeared behind the counter, returning with a gooey chocolate monstrosity. He set it down and, with an unholy gleam in his eye, retook his seat.  
  
"How old are you?" she teased.  
  
He shoveled in a forkful, shrugged, and mumbled, "Good question," through a mouthful of chocolate.  
  
Parker slid back in her chair and sipped at her wine as she watched Jarod gleefully inhale an enormous piece of cake. Where does he put it, she wondered as her eyes traveled the expanse of his broad, muscled chest. When he was finished he emitted a deep groan of satisfaction and flopped back in his chair, looking sated and content. If he opens his belt and undoes the button to his pants I'm leaving, she mused with a smirk.  
  
"It's always nice to see you out of your work clothes," he observed. "You look great."  
  
"Yeah, well, a pair of faded jeans and a pink cotton sweater don't carry much intimidation factor," she replied.  
  
"Oh, I don't know about that. Someone might be inclined to find it *more* intimidating because it's clearly not a case of fancy tailoring or makeup. You really *are* that gorgeous."  
  
"I see we've entered the shameless flattery portion of the evening," Parker remarked with a grin, adding, "And if you think I'm intimidating out of my work clothes..." She leaned forward slightly and purred, "You should see me out of *these* clothes."  
  
His face erupting in a wide grin, Jarod literally launched from his seat and grabbed her and, for a moment or two, Parker thought he might take her up on the offer then and there. Instead, he pulled her into his arms and spun around and around on the wooden deck, deftly avoiding the tables and chairs scattered about the place.  
  
"What are you doing, you lunatic?" she yelped as she was literally swept off her feet.  
  
"Oops, how forgetful of me!" he said as he backed his way toward the counter without loosening his death grip on her and, therefore, leaving her no choice but to stumble along with him.  
  
Jarod leaned back over the counter, forcing Parker to topple onto him helplessly. Smirking, he hesitated a moment and shot her one of his looks then flipped a switch and, when music began to play, propelled them both into a standing position and resumed moving about the deck.  
  
"I realize you haven't been out in the world all that long, monkeyboy, but it *is* customary to *ask* a woman if she wants to dance rather than grabbing and molesting her," she chided playfully.  
  
"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that I had molested you because, frankly, I'd have thought it would be a lot more interesting..." He grinned mischievously at her. "And fun."  
  
* * * *  
  
"Mmmm... Bebel Gilberto," Parker purred softly as she rocked slowly in Jarod's arms. The sun rested low on the horizon; they had been dancing for almost an hour.  
  
"You're familiar with her?" he whispered into her hair.  
  
She nodded against him and said, "I love Brazilian music."  
  
"Ever been?" he asked.  
  
"Once... just a quick jaunt to Rio with friends... ages ago when I was young and spontaneous. I've always wanted to go back though and explore, you know, really see the country. Maybe someday..." She sighed and repeated, "Maybe someday."  
  
Smiling wistfully, Jarod tightened his arms around her and abruptly changed the subject.  
  
"I'm staying nearby."  
  
"Hmmm?" was her only response.  
  
"In a house... a small house, but it's very nice. The owners are away for the summer."  
  
"Mmm-hmm..."  
  
"It's a lot nicer than my usual accommodations. It's got a loft... and a fireplace."  
  
"Sounds nice," Parker remarked lazily. There was a moment or two of silence and then,  
  
"Well?"  
  
"Well what?" she inquired, smiling against his shoulder.  
  
"Would you like to see it?"  
  
* * * *  
  
*Who needs yoga?*  
  
Sprawled on her stomach on the spacious, comfortable bed, Parker replayed a recent conversation with Sydney in which he had recommended yoga as an effective stress reliever. She had laughed out loud and asked him to picture her surrounded by a bunch of granola-crunching peaceniks in leotards. Then it had been his turn to chuckle.  
  
She'd just discovered an alternative form of stress relief. Her body hummed with contentment and she was disinclined to move a muscle, only something occurred to her compelling her to inquire,  
  
"What time is the last ferry back to Seattle? I'll need to be on it."  
  
Jarod turned his head to glance at the clock on the beside table and replied, "It left eight minutes ago."  
  
Lifting her head off the pillow, she said, "Then I'll have to take the bridge and you'll have to *acquire* another vehicle. I don't much care for the idea of risking being seen together in the city and I *have* to meet Broots in the hotel lobby at 7:00 a.m. sharp. If I'm not there on time and he starts looking for me then the sweepers we brought along will start to get..."  
  
"It's okay, relax," he advised softly as he turned completely onto his side to face her then propped his head up on one elbow.  
  
Running the tips of his fingers gently down the center of her spine, he continued, "I have every intention of getting you to the terminal in time to catch the first ferry. It leaves at 4:45 and that should get you back to town in plenty of time to dress, pack, and meet Broots."  
  
She lowered her head to the pillow then smiled languorously up at him and remarked, "Sounds like you had this all planned out. Mighty sure of yourself, aren't you, Wonderboy?"  
  
"Well, I find it always pays to hope for the best and prepare for the worst," he responded with a grin.  
  
"And which does this constitute?" she asked with a playful gleam in her eye.  
  
"That's a very good question, Miss Parker. I don't think I have enough information to answer at this time but I do plan to explore the matter further."  
  
And explore he did, his hand wandering to the small of her back where he teased the sensitive flesh with his fingertips. Every cell in her body jumped to attention as if to say, "Again? Well, okay, if you insist!"  
  
Jarod's hand wandered lower to cup and gently squeeze one of her buttocks then he sat up and climbed over her body to straddle her thighs with his knees. He leaned forward and began placing the most exquisite little kisses to the back of her neck, shoulders, and as much of her back as he could reach. Parker reveled in this attention for quite a while until, with a sigh, she reached for the open box on the bedside table, removing yet another foil packet and handing it back to him.  
  
"Why, thank you, Miss Parker," Jarod murmured seductively.  
  
"Anytime, buddy... mmm... anytime."  
  
# # # #  
  
Tbc... Now that they've started, I very much doubt they'll want to stop! 


	7. The Friendship Cycle Seven: Familiar wit...

See part 1 ("Another Woman") for disclaimer.  
  
The Friendship Cycle Seven: Familiar with the Concept  
  
By Ginger  
  
*Delaware is 3,000 miles in the OPPOSITE direction!*  
  
It was 3:43 a.m. and Jarod was wide awake on the last night of his stay in Los Angeles. His latest pretend was over and he had a plane to catch in a few hours, but *which* plane was the source of some angst. He chewed his lip as he stared at the flight itinerary on the computer screen then stole a guilty sideward glance at the airline ticket lying beside his laptop.  
  
Jarod frowned. He knew what he had to do: he'd promised and, under the circumstances, it was the very least he could do. Because of changes in his personal life his family had been completely uprooted and, although disappointed, they had all been fairly good natured about the whole thing. Now that they were settled in a new location with the new identities he had created for them, it was hardly unreasonable to expect a visit. So it was beyond question: Jarod would spend the next two weeks on Kauai where, under the guise of a recently-retired pilot and single father, the Major was flying for a small company ferrying tourists to and from the big island.  
  
The problem was that thoughts of islands in general always brought him back to one island in particular - Bainbridge Island - and that perfect night he'd spent with her. In addition to reminding him how much he missed her, such reminiscences tended to have a powerful physiological effect on him. Or, as Argyle so succinctly put it when Jarod confided his predicament in a recent telephone conversation,  
  
"Jay-Man's got his horns up!"  
  
While he remained perplexed by his odd friend's reference to horns, he could not ignore the fact that a certain part of his anatomy was frequently *up* these days. It was affecting his ability to concentrate and that was never a good thing for him or the people around him. Maybe a couple weeks of relaxation with the family would help but he doubted it. Sighing longingly, Jarod leaned back in his chair, clasped his hands behind his head, and shut his eyes then allowed his mind to drift back to those hours of pure happiness he'd experienced exactly thirty-three days earlier.  
  
* * * *  
  
He was both delighted and terrified when she agreed to accompany him to the house: delighted because things were progressing as well if not better than he'd hoped, and terrified because he was suddenly faced with the very real prospect of making love to Miss Parker. It wasn't a matter of performance anxiety in the strictest sense; their physical contact thus far had gone extremely well and if chemistry were any indication then everything was likely to be in order. He was more concerned about saying something awkward or silly. When it came to sexual matters she was far more experienced and sophisticated than he, and probably had the same high standards when it came to the art of seduction that she had with regard to everything else.  
  
The short car ride was as silent as the earlier one, only this time Parker was the picture of relaxation and Jarod was the nervous wreck. He nearly jumped out of his skin when she casually placed her hand on his knee and gave it a playful squeeze. Even though she was looking away from him he detected her smirk but did not comment. Her hand stayed right where it was for the remainder of the journey.  
  
He wasn't feeling any more suave when they got to the house but did manage to offer her coffee or a cold drink, both of which she politely declined. Then, for lack of a better idea, he proceeded to show her around the place. Taking her by the hand he led her room to room, conducting a thorough tour that included several closets and the kitchen pantry. Although she was trying very hard, Jarod could tell that Parker was struggling to contain her amusement by the time he'd mustered the courage to lead her up the steps to the loft that comprised the master bedroom. And yet he couldn't seem to stop himself from pointing out each and every salient feature of the spacious, well-appointed room. When he finally got to the most prominent piece of furniture, he gestured toward it and muttered,  
  
"And that's the... well, you know."  
  
Taking a moment to inspect the item in question, she turned to him and observed with complete deadpan,  
  
"Yes, that would indeed appear to be a bed."  
  
Pivoting, she unceremoniously flopped onto her back and kicked off her shoes. Propping herself up on her elbows and issuing one of her *What's it gonna be, Jarod?* looks, Parker asked,  
  
"Anything else you wanna show me, Wonderboy?"  
  
Maybe it was her devilish facial expression. Maybe it was the inviting tone of her voice. Most likely it was a combination of the two but, whatever it was, it provided a welcome boost to his confidence. Leaning forward he placed his hands on either side of her body and, hovering over her, answered huskily,  
  
"Why, yes, Miss Parker, there is."  
  
From then on, events took on a sort of slow motion, dreamlike quality, or at least they did when he looked back on them later. It seemed amazing to him that he could spend years dreaming about, months hoping for, and weeks planning something, and still find himself wholly unprepared for the reality of the experience.  
  
There was the awe he felt when he pulled her sweater over her head to reveal an expanse of delicate, ivory skin so soft to the touch it made him gasp with delight. He had no idea her voice could be as small and tender as it was when she whispered his name and other things for his ears only. In his wildest dreams, he'd never imagined Parker letting him take the lead, allowing Jarod to revel in slowly peeling away every stitch of her clothing and savoring every inch of exposed flesh as though he were a condemned man and she his last meal.  
  
Yet nothing could prepare him for the moment when he entered her body. The sublime pleasure of completing sexual union with a thoroughly amazing and totally gorgeous creature was heightened by the way her eyes - the color of eternity like a cloudless sky - grew unusually large and welcoming and conveyed a simple but powerful message:  
  
*Take me.*  
  
Jarod shuddered as a wave of pure animal lust coursed through him. Parker emitted a small gasp and trembled in response, which prompted him to abandon all rational thought and listen to the commands being issued by his agonizingly aroused body. He began to move, slowly at first but not for long, inside her... inside her... inside her. And for several perfect moments as his eyes remained locked on hers, inside her was the only place that existed.  
  
* * * *  
  
He opened his eyes, glanced down at his lap, and sighed wistfully. With a slight wince and a low groan, he leaned forward in his seat to left click on the touch pad of his laptop, thereby selecting the little blue box with the white lettering that read:  
  
*Book this Trip*  
  
Sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms at his chest, Jarod whispered guiltily,  
  
"Sorry, Dad, but it will just be a couple of days, I promise."  
  
* * * *  
  
Cursing under her breath, Parker moved swiftly about the room putting the finishing touches on her ensemble. Pausing to steal one last look in the mirror she swore aloud when she noticed her bare earlobes. Slapping down her bag and wrap, she hastily dug into her jewelry box in search of the pair of obscenely expensive diamond and platinum earrings Daddy had given her for her thirtieth birthday. She didn't wear them often - they weren't what one would call practical for everyday in her line of work, or any line of work she could think of except maybe upscale prostitution - but dutifully fished them out of her jewelry box every time she accompanied her father to a social function.  
  
While a bit over-the-top for her tastes, they were exquisitely crafted and of the highest quality, and did make a striking statement with basic black. More importantly, wearing them was a painless way to engender a little goodwill between her father and herself and, these days, Parker figured she needed all the goodwill she could muster. Frowning at that thought she fastened the second earring in place then straightened and took another moment to inspect her appearance.  
  
*Daddy's girl?*  
  
Standing tall in one of her favorite little black dresses - strapless with a tight, exquisitely beaded bodice - she *appeared* to be the same old Miss Parker. A third high quality stone suspended from her long, graceful neck by a velvet cord to make a perfect V on her pale skin. Her hair was swept up in a tight French twist. Her makeup was flawless and, because it was the best on the market and applied correctly, would remain that way all evening with minimal touchup.   
  
All of which left her wondering why she'd dreaded this evening from the moment Daddy had asked her to accompany him, so much so that it had kept her up four nights in a row and compelled her on the previous evening to break her cardinal rule against sleeping pills so she wouldn't show up at the affair looking like the living dead. That would definitely *not* engender goodwill. With a shrug she picked up her plainly elegant Stuart Weitzman evening bag and her mother's black silk wrap - one of only a few items that had survived her father's purge of virtually every vestige of his wife's existence shortly after the "the incident in the elevator" (as Parker now referred to the most horrible moment of her childhood since it could not longer be accurately described as the moment of Catherine's death).   
  
Sighing she turned away from the mirror and lumbered, like a condemned woman going to the gallows in stiletto heels, toward the bedroom door. As she moved, Parker pictured herself stepping out onto the terrace at her father's club and the light hitting her at just the right angle to reveal Jarod's fingerprints on her body, illuminated like iridescent paint under a black light, glowing through her dress and the underwear and stockings beneath. This time the prints were neon yellow but other times they were hot pink, lime green, or a combination of colors. The image had flashed before her many times over the last few days, having initially come to her as she stood in her father's office and, perhaps nodding a bit too manically and smiling a tad too broadly, proclaimed,  
  
*"Of course, Daddy, I'd love to."*  
  
The sigh of resignation Parker emitted as she yanked open her bedroom door evolved into a startled gasp as she came face to face with a grinning Jarod. He blinked a few times as he processed her appearance then his face fell.  
  
"What are you doing here? The sun isn't even down yet. Are you nuts?"  
  
"I... I..." He sighed dejectedly and stated, "I take it you're going out."  
  
"Well it wasn't as though I was expecting you."  
  
She noted the absurdity of the words even as she spoke them. It wasn't as though she ever *expected* him. They didn't exactly pencil each other in on their respective calendars.  
  
"Fuck," she muttered, her shoulders slumping as she turned and ambled back into the bedroom.  
  
Following her Jarod offered, "I'm sorry, I probably should have checked to see if you were *available* tonight."  
  
Although he was dying to know, he did not ask where she was going or with whom. Was Herr Langer back in town? His chest tightened; the evening wasn't going at all as he'd planned. In a tone that conveyed his raw need he observed,  
  
"You look positively stunning."  
  
*This is torture,* Parker thought as she took in the pure, unadulterated hunger in his eyes. She noticed for the first time the paper bag in his hand and knew it contained a box of condoms, maybe two... always so thoughtful. She glanced at the open door leading out to the hallway and felt an ache building inside her. She didn't want to go; she wanted to close the door, shed the veneer she had spent the last hour plastering on, fall into his arms, and remain there for the next several hours or, better yet, days. Dropping her arms to her sides in a gesture of regret she attempted to explain,  
  
"I've got to go. Daddy's expecting... and I can't afford to piss him off... I have to keep up..."  
  
"I know," he interjected softly as he nodded ruefully.  
  
"Be here when I get back?" She forced her mouth into a shape that vaguely approximated a smile.  
  
"I guess you'll just have to wait and see."  
  
Parker blinked in surprise but did not become angry or defensive, probably because she understood all too well the disappointment and frustration behind his words. Her lack of defensiveness made Jarod immediately regret those words. He hadn't intended to be harsh but the prospect of having to wait another minute, let alone hours, to be with her was almost too much to bear. Still, it was lousy of him: he knew for a fact that she took no pleasure in the little chores she felt compelled to do for her father, and it wasn't as though she'd gotten all dressed up to appear on the arm of Langer, or any other man who, unlike Jarod, was in a position to enjoy the privilege of being out in public with her.  
  
"I'm sorry, I..."  
  
She cut him off by stepping forward and placing a quick but tender kiss to his lips. Stepping back she commanded softly,  
  
"Be here when I get back."  
  
Jarod narrowed his eyes and shook his head gravely then grabbed Parker around her tiny waist and pulled her into a hot, punishing kiss. She knew he was messing up her makeup but couldn't bring herself to care as she melted into his arms and her hands, still clutching her purse and wrap, fell limply to her sides. A voice in her head chanted, *He's not going to let you go! You HAVE to go!* a few times before he released her lips but retained the tight grip on her body. Pressing his mouth to her ear, he warned in a voice heavy with desire,  
  
"Don't make me wait too long."  
  
Her eyes fluttering shut for an instant, she nodded. He finally released her and she made her way slowly toward the door. Jarod noted the slight wobble in her first few steps and smiled. Parker soon regained her composure though, and was controlled and graceful as ever when she exited the room without looking back.  
  
* * * *   
  
*I swear, his forehead looks like a tarp pulled over a ballfield during a summer downpour.*  
  
Since rendering herself unconscious with alcohol was out of the question, Parker resolved to get through the evening by selecting an object and focusing on it completely. She hoped it would help keep her mind off Jarod and ignore the constant buzzing of her own body. The item she had chosen was the shiny, bald forehead of one Timothy Soderz, a criminally boring millionaire Daddy had left her at the mercy of before bidding adieu to join the other speakers at the head table. She figured if this guy's sweaty noggin couldn't dampen her ardor then nothing could. And so she sat sipping demurely at her wine but not touching a bite of her food and, with a serene smile plastered on her face, pretended to hang on Mr. Soderz's every word while methodically counting the beads of moisture on his forehead.  
  
"Blah... blah... blah... blah... simulations."  
  
That got her attention and Parker actually tuned him in for a moment, leaning slightly forward in her seat to offer a gracious,  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Simulations... they've become a real hobby of mine, an obsession really. With the Internet, it's so easy to get started. I sim with people from all over the country, the world even. I was heavy into the military stuff a while back but right now I'm mostly into economic systems, you know, building and un-building national economies. It's great fun! Do you... have you ever..."  
  
"No," Parker interjected as she sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. "But I am familiar with the concept."  
  
And despite the fact that he talked at her non-stop through five courses, all she knew of Mr. Soderz when the evening's proceedings commenced bringing a merciful end to all inane conversation, was that the man sweats like Elvis after a long Vegas set and likes to pretend. While appearing to direct her full attention to the dais, Parker began to calculate how to make the earliest possible getaway without drawing her father's disapproval.  
  
At the very least, she would have to stay long enough to hear Daddy's speech. A discreet glance at the program lying open in her lap told her that he was fourth in the line-up; she'd have to endure the remarks of two more speakers so lacking in personal charisma as to make Mr. Soderz seem dynamic by comparison. And the drone currently occupying the podium didn't appear to be going anywhere for a while. Parker was in the midst of asking herself what on earth she'd done to deserve this when the supreme irony of the question hit her causing her lips to curl slightly.  
  
* * * *  
  
Parker pulled into the driveway at such a clip that her tires screeched when she hit the brakes. Drumming her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel while waiting for the garage door to open, she contemplated abandoning the car in the driveway but thought better of it because it was out of character and, therefore, could potentially draw unwanted attention.  
  
She expelled a heavy sigh of relief when the door opened then swiftly pulled into the garage. The door closing behind her at the same languorous pace at which it had opened, she went out of her way to look calm and unhurried as she exited the car and strolled toward the door leading into the house, an act which exhausted her now scant supply of self restraint. She was running on fumes.  
  
The moment she had closed and securely locked the door, Parker spun around fiercely and barked,  
  
"You better be here or I'm going to hunt you down and..."  
  
In an instant his hands were on her, the front of his body pressed firmly to the back of hers, his lips, tongue and teeth working the back of her neck and her bare shoulders. She moaned and dropped her purse, wrap and car keys carelessly to the floor. He growled like a wounded animal as he propelled them into the den and toward the sofa; there was no way in hell they were going to make it to the bedroom.  
  
As they stumbled into the room, Jarod's hands were busy: one searched for and located the hidden catch and zipper on her dress, made quick work of them both, and slipped inside to breach the tight, one-piece bustier she wore beneath; the other disappeared up under the hem to attack from another position. All Parker could do was whimper and reach back to clasp her hands at the back of his neck to hold him to her.  
  
When they reached the sofa, Jarod wrenched Parker's dress down her body with her assisting by shimmying then kicking it aside as though it were a rag and not a $1,200 piece of apparel. Then she spun around and, for the first time since her return, two sets of wild eyes met to exchange a desperate, ravenous look. They both appeared poised to speak but it was beyond them in their current state so they reached for each other instead and kissed, falling to the sofa with a soft thud.  
  
There ensued a frantic attempt to divest each other of their clothing. One of Parker's shoes sailed across the room; Jarod must have shed his earlier. She tore open his shirt sending buttons flying in every direction. He managed to yank down the tight bustier but grunted in frustration as her slim hips provided a barrier to removing it completely. His second attempt, coinciding with her frenzied pawing at his belt buckle and fly, tilted them both off balance but neither realized it until they found themselves on the rug.  
  
Their relative positions now reversed - Jarod on his back and Parker astride him - they giggled into each other's mouths. He again yanked at her bustier but she shook her head and, grinning, reached down to unfasten the hooks at the crotch.  
  
"Ingenious," he crooned.  
  
She nodded as she completed the task of unzipping his fly then reached inside to liberate the part of his anatomy she desperately needed to get her hands on. Then something dawned on her and she frowned.  
  
"Shit," she panted. "We forgot..."  
  
This time he smiled and shook his head, digging into his pocket to produce a foil packet.  
  
"Ingenious," Parker purred as she hastily grabbed and tore open the packet then frantically set to work on the task at hand. Jarod moaned as though he were in agony as she completed it.  
  
Neither demonstrated much in the way of technique, their only concern being to get as close to each other and as quickly as the mechanics of human sexuality would allow. Inherently graceful individuals moved gracelessly together, grunting, gasping, and making all sorts of funny noises uncharacteristic of two people who normally maintained strict self-control. It was rough and awkward and so very, very hot and soon Jarod was begging,  
  
"H... hurry... Ah! PLEASE!"  
  
"Please..." Parker echoed, that one syllable drawn out in a hiss as she shuddered all around him.  
  
His eyes immediately clamped shut and his head jerked back violently to press firmly into the rug as he emitted a long, deep growl of satisfaction. The sound was soon muffled by a mouthful of hair that had shaken free from the confinement of pins and hairspray as she collapsed forward into a heap, her face coming to rest against the side of his, her nose pressing against his jaw.  
  
The panting, sweating, quivering mass of their combined flesh remained still for a moment then, with a grunt of exertion, Parker rolled off Jarod and flopped onto her back beside him. Blowing an errant lock of hair from her eyes, she turned her head to look at him.  
  
"Well, that wasn't pretty," she commented with a smirk.  
  
Casting a wry glance at the obscene tableau they made, he replied, "No, it wasn't. Sure felt good, though."  
  
"Mmmm... " she hummed as she finally succeeded in kicking off her other shoe.  
  
* * * *  
  
Clad only in his boxer shorts, Jarod crouched before the hearth tending the fire he'd just built. When it was burning to his satisfaction he stood, set aside the iron poker, turned to her, and smiled. She looked incredibly sexy in the warm glow of firelight.  
  
When they had succeeded in catching their breath they'd set about making themselves more comfortable, so Parker was now sprawled lazily on the sofa wearing only Jarod's shirt and looking every bit like he had just had his wicked, wicked way with her. Which, of course, he had. Her hair was in complete disarray, her skin had a rosy glow, and her eyes sparkled through half-closed lids. Even though only a few minutes earlier he had seriously questioned his capacity to move a muscle for several hours, the very sight of her made him tingle in all the right places. He would need to have her again... very soon.  
  
Pacing toward the sofa, he remarked, "We should have done this years ago."  
  
"Yeah, right."  
  
"So I guess," he began as he climbed onto the couch, careful to distribute most of his weight on the sofa as he nestled into her body, his head pillowing on her upper abdomen just below her breasts.   
  
"I was the *only* one who was plagued with lustful thoughts way back when," he continued, grinning blissfully as he breathed in her scent.  
  
Stroking his hair, Parker snickered and teased, "A-ha! I always *knew* you wanted me!"  
  
"Not always," he replied with mock self-righteousness. "A lot of the time I really wanted to strangle you and, let's face it, when we were together in those days there were usually guns... "  
  
"A lot of guns, sometimes explosives," she concurred with a nod.  
  
"The typical mortal danger and a whole lot of hostility. But once in a while when I was all alone in the dark late at night, I will admit to having entertained the occasional fantasy... you know, when I'd recall the scent of your rain-soaked skin when we were trapped together in Florida, or I happened to think about the sleepy sound of your voice on the other end of the phone at 3:00 a.m."  
  
"Bastard."  
  
He chuckled then lifted his head to rest his chin on her belly. Gazing up at her, he asked, "How about you? Did you ever...?"  
  
"Actually," she replied with a devilish grin. "Now that you mention it, there was this *one* idea that held a certain appeal."  
  
* * * *  
  
"Hey, Dad."  
  
Sitting up in Parker's bed with the sheet pooled around his waist, Jarod spoke softly into his cell phone, nodded at the response he received, and replied,  
  
"I wanted to be sure you got my email. With the time difference and everyone's busy schedules, I thought it was the best way to leave word... Just finished breakfast? Yeah, it's nearly dinnertime here but I only had breakfast a couple hours ago. No, I haven't been out all day... busy, busy, busy... Yup... uh-huh... right... I should be there late Monday. I've just been..."   
  
He lifted his other wrist - off which Parker's handcuffs dangled - and continued with a smirk, "Temporarily detained."  
  
She chose that moment to appear in the bathroom doorway, again donning the shirt Jarod was beginning to suspect he would never get back, not that it was much use to him with most of the buttons torn off. They exchanged a conspiratorial look then he spoke into the phone,  
  
"Speaking of which, Dad, I have to get going." Winking at Parker, he nodded and explained, "Yeah, something's come up. My love to Em and Jon. Enjoy the rest of your weekend... oh, I will... uh-huh. Bye."  
  
"*Something's* come up, eh?" She drawled as she strolled toward the bed.  
  
"Well," Jarod replied wagging his eyebrows. "*Something* inevitably does when you're around."  
  
# # # #  
  
Tbc... Because, apparently, I can't be stopped. 


	8. The Friendship Cycle Eight: Nurse Parker

See part 1 ("Another Woman") for disclaimer.  
  
The Friendship Cycle Eight: Nurse Parker  
  
By Ginger  
  
"Goddamn it Jarod, where are you!" Parker growled.  
  
Clutching her cell phone in her right hand, she paced back and forth on a dismal patch of greenery that someone with delusions of grandeur had labeled "Sunrise Park." She stopped and lifted her hand to stare at the phone, as if concentrating really hard would make it ring, then glanced anxiously across the busy street at the imposing gray building that comprised Sunrise Medical Center.  
  
"Where are you?" she repeated softly, her voice quivering slightly.  
  
Seventeen minutes later the phone rang.  
  
"What!" she barked into it.  
  
"What's going on?" he asked gravely.  
  
"Oh... God..."  
  
Fallen leaves crunched beneath her weight as she sank onto the grass and closed her eyes, letting emotions she'd kept at bay for hours finally wash over her.  
  
"Parker?"  
  
His voice was tender and laced with concern and it was all she could do to keep from bursting into tears. She wrapped her free arm around her waist to brace herself against a sudden, chilly gust of wind, which served to remind her that, despite the bright sunshine and unseasonably mild weather, it was indeed autumn.  
  
"You're beginning to frighten me. Please tell me what's..."  
  
"Sydney," she interrupted. "He had a... something happened this morning."  
  
"I'm listening."  
  
She sensed the terror underlying the eerie calm of Jarod's tone and quickly added,  
  
"He's okay, I mean, they say he'll be okay." She took a deep breath and continued, "I'd better start from the beginning."  
  
"Please do."  
  
"When I got in to work this morning, I found him slumped over his desk. God, consider *where* we work and you can imagine the thoughts that crossed my mind. I helped him sit back in his chair and asked him what happened. He couldn't answer me, Jarod. He appeared lucid when I looked into his eyes but he couldn't communicate; his speech was garbled."  
  
"Go on," Jarod advised, his voice tight with tension.  
  
"I... I knew it was serious and I knew I had to act fast, before anyone else saw the condition he was in. I had to get him out of the building. I couldn't let him end up in the infirmary. I just don't trust..."  
  
"I know," he interjected tenderly.  
  
"He was dead weight so there was no way I could move him by myself. I was frantic until a certain angel of mercy appeared in a ventilation duct."  
  
"Angelo."  
  
"I don't know what I'd have done if he hadn't... Anyway, he rounded up Broots and Sam to help me get Syd out of the building without attracting attention."  
  
"How on earth?"  
  
"Let's just say that Broots created a *diversion,* allowing Sam and I to more or less carry him out."  
  
"Our Mr. Broots... So... it was a stroke, right?"  
  
"Well, that's the good news. It wasn't officially a stroke. The doctors tell me it was something called a TIA."  
  
"Transient ischemic attack. It is a temporary neurological episode that leaves no permanent damage."  
  
"Which explains why he was already feeling better by the time we reached the hospital. He was able to speak and move of his own accord, albeit a little shaky."  
  
"Make no mistake, Parker, this is serious. A TIA is often a prelude to stroke."  
  
"No kidding, which is why I practically pulled my gun in order to keep him in the emergency room, the stubborn Flemish pain-in-the-ass. Damn good thing too because it turns out that his carotid artery is severely blocked - something like seventy percent. They're doing an endo... endo..."  
  
"Endarterectomy. He's in surgery now?"  
  
"The doctor said that since he's otherwise strong and his vitals are good, it's better not to waste any time. The most important thing is to prevent any future neurological events that could have more serious and permanent consequences. He went into surgery about 40 minutes ago."  
  
"He's in surgery now," Jarod repeated softly, sounding vulnerable, childlike.  
  
Parker squeezed her eyes shut, cursing the fact that she couldn't hold him; that they couldn't hold and comfort each other. Under the present circumstances, that was most definitely not an option.  
  
As if reading her mind, he began, "Maybe I... I wish..."  
  
"Don't even think about it, Jarod. It is simply out of the question. I succeeded in getting him out of there but as soon as they find out about this, if they haven't already, they'll be watching the place like hawks. You know they'd be only too willing to use something like this to set a trap for you. If you were placed in any kind of jeopardy because of this, it would kill Sydney. You have know that."  
  
"I know," he replied raggedly. "But I hate this. I hate being so far away. I hate that you have to deal with this alone."  
  
"It's okay," she said soothingly. "I'm not alone."  
  
"Then I hate that *I* can't be the one there to help you take care of him."  
  
"I know you do." Because she hated it too. Abruptly changing the subject, Parker remarked,  
  
"His mind was on you, of course, all day. He kept telling me not to worry you and that I should forbid you to come anywhere near here. He seems to be under the impression that I have some sort of influence over you."  
  
With a heavy sigh Jarod responded, "I think he understood that before either of us did. He will be alright, Parker."  
  
She nodded. "I know he will. And I'd better be getting back. Remember, Jarod, stay the hell away from here. Check your email frequently. If I need you, I'll let you know. And when I'm not at the hospital, I'll keep my cell phone on."  
  
"Thank you, Parker."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For being so capable, for taking care of Sydney, for being my friend again, for the way it's been between us the last few months. For everything, I guess."  
  
"You really are an idiot," she observed affectionately as she hauled herself off the ground.  
  
"I miss you," was his only response before severing the connection.  
  
Pressing the phone lovingly to her cheek, she closed her eyes and whispered, "Miss you too" then shut it off, flipped it closed, and slipped it into her pocket. Parker dusted off the back of her jacket and slacks then, setting her jaw, strolled briskly toward the hospital.  
  
* * * *  
  
"For crying out loud, Syd, it's freezing out here," Parker observed as she joined him on the porch. She pulled her jacket closed and wrapped her arms tightly around her waist as she stood beside him.  
  
Briefly turning his attention from the moon and starlit sky, he offered, "I appreciate your coming up here but there really is no need to babysit me." Refocusing on the peaceful nighttime scene, he continued with a serene smile, "I am truly feeling fine."  
  
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't it just a few short weeks ago that I found you slumped over your desk? Oh, and there's the minor detail of your being sliced open to have a major artery vacuumed out. Since you were determined to spend the weekend in the middle of freakin' nowhere, I guess you're stuck with me."  
  
Sighing he replied, "It is a tradition, Miss Parker: I have always spent Veteran's Day Weekend at White Cloud. It's..."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah... It's the last weekend before you close up the cabin for the season, and your favorite time to be up here. You've only told me twenty times."  
  
"Perhaps that's because you've been lecturing me about it since I first mentioned it."  
  
"And perhaps that's because you are a stubborn pain-in-the-ass."  
  
Sydney chuckled and turned to her once again, asking, "I wonder if we've brought enough food?"  
  
Shrugging, Parker replied, "Seems like enough to me. We're only here until Monday."  
  
Raising an eyebrow he remarked, "Enough for two maybe."  
  
She cocked her head and inquired innocently, "Do you usually get company this time of year?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then I guess we don't have anything to worry about, do we?" With that she turned and strolled back inside.  
  
* * * *  
  
Despite the fact that the approaching visitor made virtually no noise, Sydney detected his presence and smiled.  
  
"Good morning, Jarod," he offered warmly as his protege stepped beside him on the lakeshore.  
  
"You're up and out early, Sydney," Jarod remarked, seemingly unfazed by his mentor's lack of surprise to see him.  
  
"This is my favorite time of day to be out here. And it affords me a few quiet moments outside of the ever watchful gaze of Miss Parker."  
  
"Keeping you on a pretty short leash, is she?" the younger man inquired in an amused tone.  
  
"In truth, she has been taking very good care of me. I wish she wouldn't fuss and worry so much but there is simply no reasoning with her. She is a remarkable woman, but then, something tells me I am, as they say, 'preaching to the choir' on that subject."  
  
There was a moment or two of silence and then, "You don't mind, do you? I wanted to see you... and, well, Parker... and this seemed like a perfect opportunity... and safe... well, relatively, anyway."  
  
"Of course not, Jarod. You are always welcome here."  
  
Another long pause followed, ending when Jarod cleared his throat and inquired, "How are you, Sydney?"  
  
"I am feeling quite well and following doctors' orders under the strict enforcement of Miss Parker." He chuckled and, nodding in the direction of the cabin, added, "Who I believe is still asleep inside. Speaking of which, I assume you haven't been to bed yet?"  
  
Shaking his head, Jarod replied, "Let's just say that I took the *long* way up here."  
  
"Well then, you should go inside to warm up and get some rest."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Positive. I could use a little quiet time. Otherwise, I'll never get into my reading."  
  
"Ah, yes, Veteran's Day Weekend... So, what's the selection this year?"  
  
Sydney dipped into the deep pocket of his parka to produce a weighty volume that he handed to his protege.  
  
"Gibbon," Jarod observed with a smile as he brushed his hand across the smooth leather cover.  
  
"I haven't read 'The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire' since university. I was infatuated with a lovely field hockey player from our sister school that term, so I must confess that I don't remember very much. In fact, all I really recall is attending field hockey matches." He chuckled then continued, "And Jacob teasing me mercilessly about it. Such a long time ago... I think it's time to revisit a classic."  
  
Raising an eyebrow and smiling warmly, Jarod handed back the volume and said, "Well, I'll leave you to it then."  
  
The teacher watched in contentment as his former pupil trotted up the hill toward the cabin, the spring in his step no doubt due to what, or rather who, awaited him there. Jarod stopped only briefly to pick up his bag, which he'd left on the porch before coming down to the lake, then quickly disappeared inside.  
  
Sydney mused about how much things had changed recently. If he had to trace it back to a specific event, it was when Parker had let Jarod go to find the brother they shared. He had disarmed her then immediately handed her weapon back. She hadn't stopped him. Sydney recalled thinking it significant at the time and feeling cautiously optimistic. It had been a real breakthrough for the two of them. And, yet, never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined them - together - under his roof a mere eighteen months later. A breakthrough, indeed.  
  
Smiling to himself, the good doctor strolled over to his favorite rock and took a seat on it. Cracking open the stiff leather binding, he happily embarked on his journey back to the Roman Empire.  
  
* * * *  
  
Hearing the door creak open, Parker smiled but did not open her eyes. Nor did she turn over to face or speak to her guest. She listened contentedly to the soft thud of shoes hitting the floor, the clank of a belt buckle, the signature sound of a zipper, and the rustling of fabric. She scooted over in bed to make room for another occupant and reached behind her to pull open the covers in invitation. He accepted immediately, climbing in beside her and reaching for her.  
  
"Jesus, Jarod, you're chilled to the bone," she murmured sleepily as she turned over to fold herself into his willing embrace.  
  
She placed a tender kiss to his stubbly chin then snuggled in to press her face against his neck and inhale. She purred with satisfaction. He smelled delicious and felt even better.  
  
Grinning he replied, "It is November, after all, and I hiked all night through the woods to get up here. I ran into Sydney down by the lake. He's looking well."  
  
"What the hell is he doing out there at this hour? I swear, that man is *determined* to drop dead on my watch."  
  
"Nonsense. He's just fine and tells me that you're taking very good care of him."  
  
"Yeah, I'm *sure* that's what he told you."  
  
"Indeed it was," he chirped, his tone changing as he added, "In fact... I was rather hoping that *Nurse Parker* could help me with a little problem I've been experiencing lately."  
  
Smirking she inquired, "Really, and what is the nature of this problem?"  
  
"Whenever I'm around a certain woman, I experience this painful..." He guided her hand down his body to cup his burgeoning erection through the thin cotton fabric of his boxer shorts and added, "Swelling."  
  
"Ah, I can see that," she commented amusedly, continuing, "Hey, didn't you say that you hiked all night? You should be exhausted." Even as she spoke her hand moved rhythmically, deftly stroking him to full arousal.  
  
"Exhausted... mmm... yes... dead... ah... no..."  
  
Jarod soon had enough of her teasing and turned over to pin Parker beneath him, nudging her legs apart to settle between them. She opened her eyes fully for the first time and frowned.  
  
"And what, may I ask, is *that*?" she demanded, nodding at the small tuft of hair beneath his lower lip.  
  
"I grew it for a pretend and sort of liked it so I decided to keep it for a while. What do you think?"  
  
"It is the facial hair equivalent of cholera, Jarod. There isn't a woman on the planet who would like it. Hmmm, on second thought, maybe you should keep it."  
  
"My... my..." he murmured between nibbles on her earlobe. "We are growing mighty possessive, aren't we?"  
  
"Let's just say," she whispered breathlessly, "There are certain benefits to your being a one woman man."  
  
"Like?" He lifted his head to grin mischievously at her.  
  
"Like this," she answered, raising herself slightly off the bed then guiding his hand to her lower back, just above the waistband of her panties.  
  
"A band aid. Did you hurt yourself?"  
  
"No, genius, it's a contraceptive patch. Only good boys get to ride bare back."  
  
Parker couldn't help but giggle. Jarod looked like a kid on Christmas morning.  
  
She glanced warily at the door then raised an eyebrow and asked, "What about Syd?"  
  
Snaking his hands up under her white cotton tank top, Jarod winked and replied,  
  
"Fortunately, Rome wasn't un-built in a day."  
  
* * * *  
  
Parker moved quietly around the room, careful not to disturb Jarod as she gathered her things together before heading to the shower. After gleefully making love to her for the better part of an hour, he had finally surrendered to fatigue. She had dozed off again too, lulled into sleep by the sound of his soft, rhythmic breathing.  
  
She took a moment to gaze upon his blissfully sleeping form and sighed. He lay flat on his back with his long limbs sprawled in every direction - so beautiful in sleep that it made her ache. The way she wanted him bordered on the pathological; the feelings of possessiveness he evoked were raw and powerful. *Mine,* a voice in her head spoke.   
  
*Mine and nobody else's.*  
  
Did she really believe that? She figured she must on a gut level because it had been a spur of the moment decision to surprise him with the contraceptive patch. It had simply popped into her head one day and she'd immediately called her doctor to request the first available cancellation slot so as to deprive herself of any opportunity to rethink the idea. The symbolism of the gesture was heavy; she had always been conscientious about safe sex. The only circumstances under which she'd let a man near her without latex was within the confines of a committed, long-term relationship. Suffice it to say, it hadn't happened often in her long and storied sexual career.  
  
Not that she regretted the decision one bit. Feeling Jarod's bare skin inside of her was in some ways like making love with him for the first time all over again. She grinned like Cheshire Cat, recalling the way he moaned her name and gasped, telling her over and over again how wonderful she felt. He was always so *appreciative,* as though it were some major sacrifice on her part to grant him the privilege of giving her multiple orgasms, or as if it were a monumental chore to kiss, lick, nip and stroke that fine body of his.  
  
"Idiot," she whispered affectionately then padded silently over to the bed.  
  
Parker gently tucked the covers around him and was about to turn away when, without opening his eyes, he grabbed her wrist and asked groggily,  
  
"And where do you think you're going?"  
  
"To take a shower. I am not presently fit for public consumption."  
  
Tugging on her arm, he purred, "But you are fit for *my* consumption."  
  
"Not on your life, horny toad," she replied, pulling her hand away. "It's already after ten and it would be rude to stay in bed all day and leave our host on his own."  
  
"I don't think he'd mind," he offered, blinking his eyes open.  
  
"Oh, I'm sure he wouldn't. I can't shake the suspicion that he's somehow managed to smuggle up a trunkload of his favorite artery-clogging European cheeses."  
  
Jarod chuckled as he foisted himself into a seated position then commented, "Poor Sydney."  
  
"Poor Sydney, my ass! Serves him right for growing on me and making me give a damn what happens to him. Serves you both right, actually. Mark my words, you'll rue the day," she tacked on over her shoulder as she exited the room.  
  
"Already do, Miss Parker," Jarod muttered through a smile then quickly scampered out of bed and hopped into his boxer shorts to follow her.  
  
* * * *  
  
"So," Parker began, her arms crossed sternly at her chest. "What you are telling me is that you *refuse* to shave it off?"  
  
Jarod nodded and grinned. She looked adorably incensed standing there in a towel, her wet hair clinging to those exquisite white shoulders of hers. In truth, he'd shave every single hair off his body if she asked him to, but it was simply too much fun to tease her.  
  
"Well then," she announced, stalking past him and taking a swipe at his towel-clad behind as she went. "I guess I'll just have to do it for you."  
  
Wrenching open the medicine cabinet, she pulled out a shaving mug, brush and straight razor. Sydney was a traditionalist when it came to this particular male ritual.  
  
"Drag your ass over here, Jarod!" she barked as she ran water over the brush and razor.  
  
"Uh, Miss Parker, do you think any man in his right mind would let you near his throat with a straight razor?"  
  
Turning to face him, she set aside the shaving items and foisted herself into a seated position on the counter next to the sink. Parting her thighs, she patted the spot on the counter between them then, smiling wickedly, picked up the brush and mug.  
  
"Yes," she replied seductively as she slowly stirred the soap into a frothy foam. "Indeed I do."  
  
Knowing he was powerless to resist, Jarod shrugged and stepped forward. *What the heck,* he thought. There wasn't much blood flowing above the neck anyway.  
  
Parker wound her legs around his waist and hooked her ankles to hold him in place then brushed the shaving foam onto his face, chin, and throat. When she deemed him sufficiently lathered up, she set the cup and brush aside and picked up the razor.  
  
"Now," she instructed, her eyes gleaming. "Be a good boy and keep still."  
  
She pressed the sharp blade to his skin and commenced giving him the closest shave of his life. She was remarkably skilled with a straight razor, a fact that Jarod decided it best not to dwell on. Instead he occupied himself by stroking the soft skin of her thighs, working his way up from her knees. There was something incredibly erotic about Parker brandishing a lethal weapon, which wasn't exactly news to him. Four years of her shouting, waving her gun, and chasing in perilous miniskirts and death-defying high heels had spawned many a late-night fantasy.  
  
*If she only knew...*  
  
"Uh, Jarod, not a good time to distract me," Parker advised as she eliminated the offending patch of hair, being especially cautious while working in the vicinity of his lips.  
  
"There," she cooed then set aside the razor and leaned over to run a cloth under hot water before tenderly patting the freshly shaved area with it.  
  
"All done," she added, tossing the cloth into the sink.  
  
"Not hardly!" he growled, snaking one arm around her to pull her forward. With his other hand he removed her towel then his.  
  
* * * *  
  
"Good morning, Miss Parker," Sydney offered from his perch on a stool at the kitchen counter. There was a cup of tea in front of him and his book was setting open on one knee.  
  
"I am surprised to see you down here so early."  
  
Averting her eyes, Parker made a beeline for the coffee maker muttering, "Early? It's twenty to twelve, Syd."  
  
"Is it really? The morning just flew by. Is Jarod still asleep? He must be exhausted after his long journey."  
  
"Not hardly," she whispered then cleared her throat and replied somewhat awkwardly, "He's... um, getting dressed. He should be down any minute."  
  
Parker was thankful she had her back to him as she busied herself making coffee. Her cheeks were positively burning. For obvious reasons, she and Jarod did not venture out in public together, nor had they shared the company of another living soul since their relationship had become intimate. The fact that Sydney was the first person to see them *together* was both a blessing and a curse: a blessing because he could be trusted unconditionally and meant the world to them both; a curse because, well, he was *Sydney!* At least she was not alone in her mortification; Jarod would probably feel even more uncomfortable until they all adjusted to the new reality.  
  
"Good morning again, Sydney!"  
  
*Or not.*  
  
"I can't believe it," the older man observed with a chuckle. "You look quite rested."  
  
"Several hours in the care of *Nurse Parker* will do that for a man," Jarod chirped.  
  
*Definitely not.*  
  
Since it was glaringly apparent that she was the only one present requiring a period of adjustment, Parker set aside the powerful urge to choke the life out of Jarod and poured herself a cup of coffee. She turned to find her lover leaning casually against the counter next to his mentor and looking as though he hadn't a care in the world. Thoughts of grisly homicide returned but she ignored them and announced,  
  
"Since I doubt anyone is quite ready for lunch..."  
  
"I haven't even had breakfast yet," Jarod interjected cheerfully.  
  
"Yes... well, I think I'll leave you two to get caught up while I catch up on a little personal paperwork I've brought with me. If I don't take the time to sit down and pay bills, they'll send the sheriff after me."  
  
"The laws of this state strictly prohibit the use of criminal law enforcement personnel in the collection of... oh."  
  
Sydney's eyes danced with amusement, Parker's flashed with anger, and Jarod's blinked with bewilderment.  
  
"I leave you in Sydney's capable hands," she stated through a tight smile then moved toward the door.  
  
"But..."  
  
Stopping in the doorway, she turned and said, "I see Syd almost daily and I see you... enough. When was the last time the two of you had the opportunity to just sit and talk?" Shaking her head, she raised her hand and added with a sigh, "Please don't answer that."  
  
Then she was gone.  
  
Sydney began to laugh softly. His protege frowned and remarked, "Well, I've obviously done something to amuse you and annoy her. Would you mind enlightening me as to what that was?"  
  
* * * *  
  
Jarod entered the cabin to find Parker reclining on the couch reading a magazine. She was covered with a blanket and the fire he'd built earlier was still burning. It was a very appealing scene - warm and domestic.  
  
Peeking over her magazine, she inquired, "Did you two have a nice walk?"  
  
"Very nice."  
  
"Where's Sydney?"  
  
"Visiting neighbors; a couple who've been coming up here about as long as he has. He saw smoke rising from their chimney and wanted to pay a call."  
  
"Oh... I hope he's..."  
  
"He'll be fine, Parker, and I couldn't exactly accompany him, could I?"  
  
"I guess I really need to lay off."  
  
"You worry about him because you care, but Sydney has endured a lot over the years. He's strong."  
  
"He scared the living shit out of me that morning, Jarod."  
  
"I know. Believe me, I know."  
  
"I'll tell you one thing," she stated, tossing the magazine aside. "It was a hell of a lot easier when I was indifferent toward him and hostile toward you."  
  
"No it wasn't," he contended with a smile as he approached the sofa. "You gave yourself an ulcer, remember?"  
  
"The way *I* remember it, *you* gave me an ulcer."  
  
"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," he shot back as he lifted her outstretched legs and took a seat on the couch beneath them. Squeezing one of her knees, he asked,  
  
"And how are *you* doing?"  
  
"Fine."  
  
"I don't know, you still seemed a little tense at lunch."  
  
"And I can't imagine why."  
  
"And I can't imagine what the problem is. Sydney is very happy for us, and it isn't as though this came as any sort of shock to him. Not really."  
  
"It's not that... it's... You may not realize this, but people don't generally announce to authority figures that they've just spent the morning going at it like crazed monkeys."  
  
"Miss Parker," Jarod began with a gleam in his eye. "I'll have you know that I spent many hours observing monkeys copulating, and not once in all that time did I witness..."  
  
The magazine she picked up and tossed hit him squarely in the face.  
  
"Now you've done it!" he warned then lunged.  
  
It was a tangle of arms and legs, and no small amount of giggling, as they playfully wrestled on the sofa. When he had her pinned beneath him, he took a break from nibbling on her neck to inquire,  
  
"You consider Sydney to be a figure of authority?"  
  
"Not *authority* in the sense that we were raised to comprehend it... more of an *earned* authority. He's always been there offering guidance, counsel, and the occasional swift kick in the butt... well the psychological equivalent, anyway."  
  
"Kind of like a father," Jarod offered thoughtfully.  
  
"Kind of," Parker concurred with a nod and a smile.  
  
"I think I'm beginning to understand. One does not generally share one's sexual exploits with a parent."  
  
"Not generally," she repeated, rolling her eyes.  
  
"Then I guess you'll be wearing turtlenecks for the remainder of the weekend. Good thing it's chilly."  
  
"Bastard! How the hell old are you anyway!" she protested, but he saw laughter in her eyes as she wriggled beneath him in a futile attempt to extricate herself.  
  
He snickered then dipped his head to engage her in a slow, deep kiss. She surrendered completely and they entertained themselves as such for several happy minutes. They were so engrossed that they didn't hear the front door open, the sound of a throat clearing loudly finally breaking their reverie. Jarod raised himself off her slightly and turned his head to glance over one shoulder as Parker lifted her head to peek over the other.  
  
"Syd's back!"  
  
Exclaiming the obvious, Parker gave Jarod a forceful shove that sent him tumbling to the floor on his back. Bolting into a standing position, she quickly stepped over him and straightened her rumpled clothing.  
  
"I am sorry to interrupt, Miss Parker," a clearly amused Sydney offered. "But it is getting rather chilly out there and I didn't bring the key to the back entrance."  
  
"Oh, you weren't interrupting, I mean, of course you had to come in." She shot Jarod - now sitting up, rubbing his back, and wearing a wry expression - a poisonous look and continued, "Have a seat by the fire and I'll get you something warm to drink. You must be tired."  
  
"I am fine but I am not so sure about Jarod." He nodded in the direction of his fallen comrade.  
  
"Oh, he'll live," she remarked, slapping the man in question on the back of the head as she moved toward the kitchen. "Take your coat off, Sydney!" she called over her shoulder before disappearing.  
  
Once they were alone the mentor smiled sympathetically and offered his protege a hand to help him up. It was accepted with a diffident smile and a warm,  
  
"Thank you, Sydney."  
  
Parker soon returned with a cup of tea in one hand and a wooden box clasped under her other arm.  
  
"What's that?" Jarod asked.  
  
"It's a chess board I found in the study."  
  
"We're playing chess?"  
  
She handed the tea to Sydney, who had just finished shedding his jacket, then foisted the box at Jarod and replied, "*You're* playing chess. *I'm* reading a year's worth of back issues of my favorite magazines. I think we've *all* gotten enough exercise for one day."  
  
Parker retook her position on the couch while Sydney and Jarod dutifully seated themselves on opposite sides of a small table in front of the fire and proceeded to set up the chessboard. They were soon heavily engrossed in the game, but she didn't make much headway with her magazines. Instead, she passed much of the time with her eyes closed, listening contentedly to their soft, genial conversation.  
  
# # # #  
  
Tbc... How and where will Jarod and Parker celebrate their *First Anniversary?* 


	9. The Friendship Cycle Nine: At This Hour?

See part 1 ("Another Woman") for disclaimer.  
  
By way of explanation, DuMBo stands for "Down under the Manhattan Bridge overpass." It's a bit much, I know, but I didn't name it. In any case, it's this totally cool post-industrial neighborhood in downtown Brooklyn favored by the beautiful people who have converted old warehouse/factory space into lofts. And since human beings don't get much more beautiful than Jarod and Miss Parker, I thought it a fitting place for them to spend their weekend.  
  
Oh, and for residents of New Jersey, no offense is intended. As a proud resident of the Garden State myself, I have spent many an hour stuck in traffic at one tunnel or another and, in fact, did so this very morning. Parker was just being cranky. If you were running late for this particular rendezvous then you'd be cranky too.  
  
The Friendship Cycle Nine: At This Hour?  
  
By Ginger  
  
"God, I hate New Jersey," Parker groaned as she pressed her forehead to the steering wheel.  
  
She was well and truly stuck in a traffic jam at the entrance to the Holland Tunnel. It would probably take another hour, at least, to traverse the final three miles of her journey to the DuMBo section of Brooklyn.  
  
*Great,* she thought bitterly. *More time to think.*  
  
Thinking was all she had done since leaving Blue Cove and it was safe to say she'd had her fill of it. Besides, her ass was getting numb and she was dying for a drink. There wouldn't be any provisions in the borrowed loft that was to be her abode for the weekend, so she'd have to pick up a few things before settling in for the evening. Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, she sighed. It was already after eight. Apparently, this day was destined to go on forever.  
  
The accommodations were compliments of an artist off on an extended stay in South America. She was not personally acquainted with the individual; he was an old school buddy of Fritz's. Her ex-lover had remained loyal and generous even after she'd informed him that they could no longer see each other romantically. He hadn't been terribly surprised by the news and was certainly in a position to be magnanimous; she was hardly the love of his life either. Nevertheless, Fritz was a class act, even going so far as to pretend that nothing had changed between them when he visited Delaware over the winter. He dutifully played his role for the benefit of Mr. Parker at her request and without asking why. When she struggled to explain he would have none of it, insisting he knew her well enough to know that she must have a damned good reason.  
  
It was amazing how much had changed in the last six years, how much *she* had changed. The *old* Parker would never have garnered the loyalty and respect of such a kind and decent soul or, if she had, would have misused and squandered it. She'd certainly been through a lot – there was no denying it – but it was the people in her life who had made the most impact. Sydney… Broots… Debbie… Tommy…  
  
Jarod.  
  
He was the linchpin, the common denominator. Without him everything would have been different. As difficult and painful as life in the hunt had so often been, Parker didn't even want to think about where she'd be or what she'd be doing now if Jarod hadn't made his dramatic reentry into her life six years earlier. No doubt she'd still be towing the corporate line and believing all the lies, including the one about her mother being an unstable, weak-willed woman who'd taken her own life on a public elevator.  
  
Even if the only thing Jarod had ever given her was the knowledge that Catherine had not *chosen* to leave her forever, it would have been the greatest gift she'd ever received. He had, of course, given her much, much more and was still giving. All he seemed to want in return was to be with her, a desire she'd been fulfilling for a year, and would go on fulfilling for as long as she could because it was what she wanted too.  
  
*But for how long?*  
  
Parker frowned as she pressed the accelerator to creep forward. Obviously their chosen course had never been a safe one, but it had become even less so recently. So far, it had not been what one might broadly term an uneventful year.  
  
Raines had reappeared - alive and well - and with that glint in his eye that suggested he was back in the good graces of the whoever the hell was truly in charge. And even though she had witnessed her own father shoot him, his resurrection nearly two years later proved only mildly shocking. It was the people she loved who stayed dead.  
  
Furthermore, her father's reaction, or rather his distinct lack thereof, led her to suspect that he'd known all along that Raines was alive. Perhaps the two of them had cooked up the whole scheme for reasons she couldn't begin to guess, yet another round in that seemingly endless Centre power struggle. Or maybe it had been a simple means of shutting her up about the truth of her mother's death, a possibility she couldn't bring herself to ponder for very long.  
  
Regardless, she did not relish the idea of coming into daily contact with the man who had murdered her mother in cold blood. Besides, Raines's reappearance served as an unsightly and unpleasant reminder of the fact that Parker was no closer to working out the details of her mother's elusive plan than on the day she learned of Ethan's existence.  
  
The fact of the matter was that neither she nor Jarod had made much progress of late in solving the mysteries that still cast a large shadow over their lives. They continued to skillfully play *the game* for the benefit of her employer, all the while carrying on an affair in the off hours and between pretends. They even managed to share some happy moments with the people they had in common. In addition to the wonderful weekend with Sydney back in November, Broots had been rather amusingly, if inadvertantly, brought into the fold on New Year's Eve. And Ethan had materialized a couple times before things started to heat up at the Centre.  
  
But none of this mitigated the fact that Jarod still hadn't a clue where his mother was, and Parker wasn't even close to understanding the full circumstances surrounding her own mother's death. When you tossed in the existence of their loving, but deeply troubled, younger brother, not to mention the constant struggle to stay one step ahead of her sociopathic twin while remaining on her father's good side, it was fair to say that she had plenty to keep her up nights.  
  
"Fuck!" she spat, slapping the steering wheel in frustration when traffic again slowed to a stop.  
  
* * * *  
  
Since it was a pleasant evening, Parker resolved not to spend another second of it in the car, choosing instead to make her small grocery run on foot. Returning with a plastic bag in each hand, she entered the cobblestone alleyway leading to the pedestrian entrance to the loft.  
  
"Pardon me, ma'am," a voice called from behind her. "Would you like fries to go with that *shake?*"  
  
She stifled a wide smile to turn and cast the intruder a withering glare.  
  
"I've been working construction," Jarod explained with a shrug and a cheeky grin. "Besides, it's apropos. Walking behind you *is* a sublime experience, Miss Parker."  
  
"You can lay off the charm, Wonderboy," she stated with a smirk as she foisted the bags into his hands then leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips.  
  
"You already know you're going to get lucky," she tacked on, the sight of those impossible eyes and that preposterous smile having an immediate, positive effect on her.  
  
* * * *  
  
The sound of Delta Blues, of which Jarod had been delighted to find a vast collection, wafted through the spacious loft. Having sat down together on the rug in the main living area, he noticed Parker wince as he drew her attention to one of the paintings on the wall and immediately moved behind her to locate the source of, and alleviate, her discomfort.  
  
"Mmmm... the wine is lovely, by the way," she offered after several minutes of silence. "You're becoming quite the connoiseur."  
  
"A man can learn a lot from you, Miss Parker," he purred into her ear then frowned as he located a rather large knot between her shoulder blades.  
  
"You're so tense," he observed tenderly. "I know it's been a miserable couple of months."  
  
"Mmmm... better now that we're here," she replied softly. "It's only when we're apart that I'm convinced we've lost our freakin' minds."  
  
He smiled wistfully and, moving aside her hair, kissed the back of her neck then instructed, "Take off your shirt and lie down on your stomach."  
  
"What do you have in mind, Monkeyboy?"  
  
"I'm going to work that kink out of your back."  
  
She was happy to comply and Jarod climbed across her to kneel astride her body. He was about to settle into his task when he noticed something and sighed.  
  
"You're wearing one of those front loading models."  
  
Chuckling, Parker inquired, "Is that a problem?"  
  
"Well, I can't very well unhook it from here, can I?"  
  
He climbed off her body so she could remove her bra then retook his position and proceeded to deftly rub the tension out of her tight, aching muscles. Delighting in his task, he smiled whenever she emitted a particularly delicious moan. When he felt the last remnants of the knot disappear, he leaned to forward to ask sweetly,  
  
"Better?"  
  
"You really are a genius," she answered on a sigh then pushed herself up slightly to signal that she wanted to turn around.  
  
Jarod rose fully onto his knees and Parker rolled over to cast him a sleepy, appreciative smile. Returning her smile, he leaned forward to kiss the soft, delectable skin between her breasts. He could feel the vibration as she hummed with pleasure, which instilled in him an intense desire to please her even more.  
  
He lifted his head and with a gleam in his eye stated, "Let's see what else we can do to relieve all that built-up tension," then sat back to pull his shirt up and over his head, tossing it aside.  
  
Parker raised her hips to assist as Jarod removed her pants and underwear in one smooth motion. He locked her eyes in a smoldering gaze then moved up her body to place a tender kiss to her lips before working his way down again with kisses, licks and gentle nibbles to her neck, shoulders, breasts, belly and hips. She was reduced to a boneless, quivering mass even before he reached his intended destination, and emitted a soft gasp when his head eventually dipped between her legs. Before long her release was heralded by a violent shudder and an exquisitely drawn out, "Oooooh."  
  
Rising slightly to look up at her from one of his favorite vantage points, Jarod watched as her breathing slowly evened out and waited until her heavy eyelids parted to give him a glimpse into her eyes before repeating his earlier question.  
  
"Better?"  
  
She nodded and chuckled throatily. Grinning, he crawled forward to nuzzle his face in the soft flesh of her belly. As her fingers slid into his hair to caress his scalp, he turned his head to rest contentedly on her navel and closed his eyes.  
  
* * * *  
  
Jarod tossed Parker's clothing onto a chair then shed his jeans before calling into the half-open bathroom door,  
  
"We have to make up the bed. Any idea where they keep the linens around here?"  
  
"Mmrhrph... phlyr."  
  
Quirking an eyebrow, he strolled to the door, pushed it open and leaned against the doorway to watch her. Clad only in his shirt, she was standing at the sink and brushing her teeth. He smiled. It was a well-established routine; she'd wear his shirt all weekend. When she wore anything at all, that is. Meeting his eyes in the mirror, she shot him one of her *So, what are you going to do about it?* looks. The woman was going to be the death of him, one way or another.  
  
When she finished at the sink, she slid past him in the doorway and said, "Bathroom's all yours," then gave his shoulder a playful nip before padding over to the closet in search of bedding. Shaking his head, he strolled into the bathroom to take his turn then returned to find her making the bed. Without a word he assisted her, grabbing the other end of the fitted sheet to stretch it over the mattress.  
  
"You know..." he began tentatively as they lifted and spread the top sheet. "This weekend marks the first..."  
  
"If you say anniversary, Jarod, I'll kill you."  
  
"Well it is, isn't it? If you... count from that night... when you showed up in New York... and I..."  
  
"Can we just drop it for now?" she interjected as she finished tucking in a corner.  
  
"Okay..."  
  
Parker could hear the hurt in his voice and looked up to meet his eyes. As expected, he looked every bit the whipped puppy. Sighing, she offered,  
  
"Listen, it's been a long day and an even longer week and I'd rather not think about yesterday or tomorrow right now. We can talk about it after I've gotten some rest, okay?" He nodded.  
  
"Now lose the boo-boo face and come to bed."  
  
His expression brightened considerably as he watched her pull his shirt over her head and slip between the sheets.  
  
* * * *  
  
Jarod bolted upright, his heart thumping in his chest.  
  
"What is it, baby?" she murmured, reaching for him.  
  
"I heard a noise," he whispered tensely.  
  
Parker sat up and wrapped her arms around him. Resting her chin on his shoulder, she began rubbing slow, calming circles on his back and cooed, "It's okay. It's just the coffee maker, the kind with the built-in grinder. Makes great coffee but also makes a racket."  
  
"Oh... I'm sorry I overreacted. But why did you program it to come on so early?"  
  
"Because we're going out," she replied softly then pressed a tender kiss to his jaw and continued, "And *I'm* sorry, I should have warned you."  
  
"Out? At this hour? Where to?"  
  
"I passed a bakery on my way to the market last night, one of those great old fashioned, family run joints."  
  
"Maybe I'm still recovering from my rude awakening but I don't follow."  
  
"The best time to go to a bakery is when the first batch of everything comes out of the oven."  
  
"If you say so."  
  
Jarod sounded somewhat less than enthusiastic because he was. While certainly a fan of baked goods, he liked being curled up in bed with Parker even more. The idea of leaving her warm embrace and, worse yet, having to put on clothing held little appeal.  
  
"C'mon, Jar, we can't stay naked all weekend," she stated, tousling his hair before climbing out of bed.  
  
"Says who?" he grumbled before throwing off the sheet and getting up.  
  
* * * *  
  
"Mmmm... very good!" Jarod announced through a mouthful of brioche.  
  
Sitting opposite him on the window seat, Parker rolled her eyes then glanced out the large window affording a panoramic view of the Manhattan Bridge, East River, and Island of Manhattan that was simply splendid in first light. Turns out he had indeed enjoyed their trip to the bakery, having charmed the hell out of the grandmotherly type who waited on them by behaving like the proverbial kid in a candy store.  
  
"Baby," he chirped.  
  
"Excuse me?" she asked, directing her attention from the view to him.  
  
"You called me 'baby,'" he repeated, positively beaming.  
  
"What?" She shook her head in bewilderment.  
  
"This morning, when the coffee maker startled me, you called me 'baby.' You've never called me that before."  
  
He emitted a gleeful chuckle then took another bite of warm, buttered bread. Parker sighed then slid off the window seat and disappeared for a moment, returning with one hand behind her back.  
  
"What have you got there?" he inquired as he continued to chew, craning his neck in attempt to see behind her.  
  
"Wouldn't you like to know," she teased then presented the small, elegantly wrapped box.  
  
Grinning, he finally put down his breakfast and inquired, "That wouldn't be an *anniversary* gift, would it?"  
  
Parker shrugged and glanced at the floor, her cheeks coloring slightly. Shoving aside their makeshift picnic, Jarod hopped up, gave her a quick kiss with his sweet, greasy lips and announced, "Be right back!"  
  
She shifted restlessly on her feet and bit her lip in anticipation then muttered to herself, "Oh, get a grip... You're not sixteen anymore."  
  
In a flash he was back, standing behind her, and winding his arm around her body to present a box of his own then pressed his lips to her ear and offered,  
  
"Trade?"  
  
She nodded. They exchanged packages then sat side by side to open them.  
  
"You first," he said, gesturing at the box in her lap.  
  
"Okay," she responded amiably then proceeded to carefully peel away the paper.  
  
"It's a bunny!" she exclaimed with a wide smile as she ran her finger along the flexible platinum wire, off which dangled a sleek, contemporary rendering of a rabbit, also in platinum.  
  
"Do you like it?" he asked hopefully.  
  
"It's perfect."  
  
"Here, let me..."  
  
He gently lifted the necklace out of the box, smiling as Parker quickly turned and moved her hair out of the way so he could slide it around her neck and close the clasp. She really seemed to like it, a fact which delighted him to no end. He had been a nervous wreck while shopping; he'd never attempted to buy jewelry for a woman before. But then he'd spotted the rabbit and the choice was clear.  
  
"Your turn," she advised, turning back to face him.  
  
He opened his package to find a shiny white gold chain of sturdy loops connected to a thick bar inscribed with his name.  
  
"Jarod," he whispered.  
  
"It's an identity bracelet, so you'll never forget who you are. Flip it over and read the back."  
  
"Son, Brother, Friend, Hero, Lover." He looked up at her with tears in his eyes.  
  
"And not necessarily in that order," she remarked with an affectionate smile, stroking his cheek.  
  
"Shall I?" she asked gently.  
  
All he could manage was a slow nod. She placed the bracelet around his wrist and smiled. It looked as beautiful against the warm tone of his skin as she imagined it would.  
  
"I... I don't know what to say," he muttered, obviously struggling with an overwhelming array of emotions. "It... it must have been very difficult to acquire this."  
  
Shrugging, she replied, "I had to be careful, that's all. You should have seen the jeweler's face when I paid cash." She chuckled, adding, "He probably thought I was either a drug dealer or some gangster's moll."  
  
Pressing his forehead to hers, he closed his eyes and whispered, "It is the most beautiful thing I own. Thank you, Parker."  
  
"Thank you, Jarod."  
  
He kissed her then slipped his hand into hers, stood, and pulled her up. Narrowing his eyes, he remarked,  
  
"I'll bet that bunny will look even better when it's the *only* thing you're wearing."  
  
As he tugged her toward the spiral staircase leading up to the bedroom, she observed in an amused tone,  
  
"I guess this means breakfast is over."  
  
* * * *  
  
Running her hand along the smooth curves of the bunny and swinging back and forth in her desk chair, Parker sighed as she relived their weekend in New York. After exchanging gifts, she and Jarod had spent most of the day in bed: making love, napping, listening to Blues and sharing the newspaper she'd picked up on their way home from the bakery.  
  
Despite some serious reservations on her part, he succeeded in convincing her to go dancing the following evening by pointing out that they had danced together in public before and no one had been the wiser. They spent a long night floating in a sea of undulating young bodies, rubbing up against and perspiring all over each other, consuming overpriced drinks and having a generally marvelous time. Jarod took particular pleasure in Parker's black thong, clearly visible thanks to the snug, hip-hugging pants she'd had the forethought to bring along. He kept at least two fingers tucked beneath elastic waistband virtually all evening and appeared to revel in the looks of envy cast by the twentysomething men around him.  
  
They returned to Brooklyn just in time to pass by the bakery as it opened, but were so horny when they got to the loft that the bread went cold, forgotten outside in the hallway as Jarod dragged Parker inside then pinned her against the wall, pratically tore off her pants and ravished her. Eventually their knees collectively gave way and they slid down the wall into a breathless, giggling pile of tangled limbs. When the capacity for movement and speech returned, Jarod lifted his head to glance around them then, furrowing his brow, inquired,  
  
"Uh, have you seen the bag from the bakery?"  
  
Parker was mid-snicker when she was interrupted by a hissing sound.  
  
"Pssst!"  
  
She opened her eyes to find Broots standing in front of her desk, anxiously shifting his weight from foot to foot, and wearing an expression of profound anxiety.   
  
"Yes?" she offered, straightening in her chair.  
  
"I... um... God, it's so hard to believe I can hardly... I mean... you... you... come to work day after day, year after year, and do the same thing over and over again... and, after a while you start to think that you'll never... that nothing will ever..."  
  
"For crying out loud, Broots, spit it out already!"  
  
Leaning forward to place his palms flat on her desk, he motioned for her to move closer. She raised her eyebrows then inched forward until their heads were nearly touching. Bringing his lips to her ear, he whispered,  
  
"I think I've found Jarod's mother."  
  
# # # #  
  
Tbc... Uh-oh. 


	10. The Friendship Cycle Ten: Getting It Rig...

See part 1 ("Another Woman") for disclaimer.  
  
The Friendship Cycle Ten: Getting It Right  
  
By Ginger  
  
Parker opened her eyes and smiled. She knew he was there, downstairs, waiting for her. She could feel him. Hell, she'd always been able to feel him. Lucky for him, her stubborn denial of that fact had kept him free for years... until she was ready... ready to let him in... ready to...  
  
* * * *  
  
"Hey," she said with a warm smile as she entered the room tying the belt to her robe.  
  
"Hey," he returned softly, blinking up at her through his thick, dark eyelashes.  
  
He offered his hand; she took it and joined him on the sofa. They sat in companionable silence for a time as he continued to hold her hand, stroking his thumb tenderly across her skin. After a while, a sad smile appeared on his lips and Jarod spoke.  
  
"I don't suppose you'd even consider..."  
  
Her equally sad smile cut him off and he cast his eyes downward. Tenderly caressing his cheek, she ran her thumb lovingly over the mole under his right eye then tilted his face to gaze into his moist eyes. She stole a quick glance around the room then met his eyes again and observed,  
  
"I know it doesn't look like much." Shrugging, she continued, "But it's mine. It's my life, Jarod, and I'm not done here, not yet anyway. There are too many things I couldn't leave behind - too many unresolved questions. I know you understand because you're the one who encouraged me to ask those questions in the first place."  
  
He nodded and closed his eyes. She took in every inch of his handsome face, every crease and shadow then went on,  
  
"Besides, I think it's safe to say that your family has had their fill of Parkers for one lifetime, probably two."  
  
His eyes snapped open and he protested, "But I haven't. There is one Parker I'll never have my fill of."  
  
"Maybe not, but you've got to think of them now." Grinning, she added, "You're all going to be together as a family."  
  
Shaking his head, Jarod sighed and remarked wryly, "It just figures that you'd pick this moment to be rational and good natured."  
  
"Maddening, isn't it?" she teased.  
  
Turning serious, he reflected, "This should be the happiest day of my life and yet I'm miserable and you're smiling. Maybe you're not so sorry to be rid of me."  
  
"Oh yeah, that's *got* to be it." She rolled her eyes.  
  
"Well," he muttered. "You seem just fine."  
  
"That's because I am."  
  
That is, if fine were defined as crying oneself to sleep every night then crying a little more in the morning for good measure, just enough to ensure puffy eyelids and a stuffy, red nose. Hell, if fine meant brow beating a hapless but devoted coworker and friend into going out after work, and getting so drunk that the poor man had to literally carry her home then sit with her as she again cried herself to sleep, then she was absolutely fabulous.   
  
"And so are you. This is a *good* thing Jarod. And I want good things for you because I love you."  
  
Of all the priceless looks he'd given her over the years, this one had to take the cake. It was a combination of shock, awe, joy and pain so beautiful that it momentarily took her breath away. When the moment was over she looked around and quipped,  
  
"Hey, who said that?"  
  
"You did," he replied with heartbreaking sincerity, a tear rolling down his cheek.  
  
"Oh, baby," Parker whispered then threw her arms around him and pulled him into a tight embrace.  
  
"I... I..." he choked against her skin as he buried his face in her neck.  
  
"Shhh..." she soothed. "I didn't say it to hear it. I didn't even say it for you. I said it because I needed to. Do you understand?"  
  
He nodded against her then pulled back. Rubbing tears out of his eyes, he regained a measure of composure and stated, "There's no telling how they'll react once they realize I'm gone. They may hold you and Sydney responsible, maybe even Mr. Broots."  
  
"I'd like to see them try."  
  
"I'm serious Parker," he warned looking miserable. "You'll have to be extremely careful and if there's any trouble, even the slightest hint, I want you to..."  
  
Clasping his head in her hands, she looked intently into his eyes and said, "I'll handle it, Jarod. I'll be just fine, we all will, I promise. You do believe I'm capable, that I can handle it, don't you?"  
  
He nodded slowly then brought one of her hands to his lips to kiss her palm. Sliding down to rest his head in Parker's lap, Jarod closed his eyes, squeezing out more tears as she tenderly stroked his hair.  
  
"I don't want to leave you," he whispered.  
  
"Damn right, you don't," she teased softly. He smiled and nestled into her warmth.  
  
"It's all going to be okay, baby," she cooed. "You're going to see your mother. She'll be so happy to see you. She's waited a lifetime for this. You both have." Again he nodded, tightening his hold on her.  
  
Glancing heavenward, Parker took a deep, fortifying breath and repeated, "It's all going to be okay."  
  
* * * *  
  
"I appreciate your joining me for dinner, Syd," Parker offered then took a sip of her water before continuing, "I just didn't feel like being alone tonight."  
  
"It is my pleasure, Miss Parker," he replied with a kind smile then turned his attention to the menu.  
  
"Oh, Sydney," she sighed, setting aside her menu. "It is okay to resent them... just a little, isn't it?"  
  
Smiling wistfully, he replied, "What it is, is fundamentally human."  
  
"You sound as though you know of what I speak," she observed, quirking an eyebrow.  
  
He shrugged then stated, "I am very proud of you, Miss Parker. You have done a marvelous thing for Jarod, and his family. And I know it is difficult for you."  
  
"At least, this time, I wasn't saying goodbye in a funeral home or at a cemetery. And, let's face it, the longer he and I continued to see each other, the greater the likelihood of that eventuality. He's safe and he's free and that's all that matters."  
  
"You love him very much."  
  
Shaking her head, Parker smirked and responded, "It's not as though the little pain-in-the-ass left me any choice. Once we discovered Ethan and necessity dictated that I stop fighting him tooth and nail, I guess it was inevitable. And I think I'd always known that deep down, right from the beginning, which is why I tried so hard to hate him. I was trying to hold off the inevitable. But you know Jarod; he always took such delight in thwarting me."  
  
Chuckling, Sydney confessed, "Sometimes I feared he would actually make you angry enough to kill him, but I always knew there was real affection underlying his actions. In so many ways, he was still a child. I was often reminded of a schoolboy with a crush on a classmate, seeking to get her attention by placing a spider in her desk."  
  
"Or placing hundreds of phone calls with her phone card, or gluing her to the floor, or having her strip searched in Vegas," she said, rolling her eyes. Then her expression turned serious and she commented,  
  
"But at least I had the opportunity to tell him how I feel. How come you never told him... about the box of treasures you keep... about the Father's Day card? I still don't think he quite gets it, Syd, what he really means to you. I did my best to gently enlighten him but I never thought it my place to, you know, intervene."  
  
Smiling wistfully, Sydney glanced at the table and replied, "While he was at the Centre, it was simply out of the question. If they saw our relationship as anything deeper than what they dictated it be, I would have lost him. Once he was out... well, I never wanted him to feel *obliged* in any way. I never wanted anything to stand between him and his freedom."  
  
Nodding thoughtfully, she commented, "No kidding, as evidenced by all those little tricks you played behind my back."  
  
"Miss Parker, I do not delude myself that I would have gotten away with any of it if you hadn't let me."  
  
They exchanged a warm, knowing smile then were interrupted by the waiter coming over to take their order. When he departed, Parker began,  
  
"Last year, when we were sent to interrogate Zoe, she predicted that I'd blow it. It really irritated me at the time because I figured she was right. But I didn't blow it, did I?"  
  
"No, Miss Parker, you did not," Sydney assured, smiling affectionately as he reached across the table to place his hand over hers.  
  
"For once in my life, I think I actually got it right. I can hardly believe it."  
  
"I am not at all surprised for I believe you to be capable of truly wonderful things."  
  
"*We* did right by him, Syd."  
  
He gave her a quick nod then cast his eyes down modestly. Squeezing his hand, she added, "And knowing that will make it easier to tolerate missing him... well, it might make it *possible* to tolerate, anyway, and face whatever comes next."  
  
Meeting her eyes, he inquired, "How much trouble do you think we'll be in when they realize he's gone for good?"  
  
Shrugging she replied, "Who can predict when it comes to that place? But I think the record will show that, while we never succeeded in capturing Jarod..."  
  
She grinned and stated, "We got closer than anyone."  
  
# # # #  
  
Tbc... nor not... I'm feeling pretty darn cranky today so I'm having a hard time giving a damn. For all I care, Jarod can reunite with Zoe and produce a bunch of sub-literate children. At least they wouldn't need to worry; the Centre wouldn't want anything to do with those mutants. 


	11. The Friendship Cycle Eleven: Conclusion

See part 1 ("Another Woman") for disclaimer.  
  
Author's Note: This is arriving a little later than planned. Still, you have no idea how grateful I am to be able to deliver this. REALLY, you don't! Thanks to everyone who responded so kindly to the cranky ramblings in my previous post. Rather ironically, the cosmos have since sent me a few things to be legitimately cranky about but I'll have none of it. Ginger has a new lease on life and you know what that means... uh-oh!  
  
The Friendship Cycle Eleven: Conclusion  
  
By Ginger  
  
It was her first free afternoon in weeks and Parker resolved to make the most of it. Stretching out on the chaise in the small, pretty, and fragrant garden, she picked up her book to settle in for a nice long read. She could definitely get used to a place where winter was just around the corner and it was in the mid-seventies. Curitiba, Brazil was definitely a far cry from Blue Cove, Delaware.  
  
She caught sight of her pale peach toenails and wiggled her toes. In her simple cotton shift dress of cornflower blue with her hair piled haphazardly on her head and without a lick of makeup, Parker figured she was nearly unrecognizable to anyone who had known her previously. She was barely recognizable to herself.  
  
*Who the hell is this woman?*  
  
Emitting a soft, wry chuckle, she used the toes of her right foot to scratch an itch on her left ankle. One concession to her previous incarnation was her hemline; it remained well above the knee. There was no point, after all, in throwing the baby out with the bath water. Sighing contentedly, she crossed her long, tanned limbs at the ankles and drew her eyes to her book.  
  
An enigmatic smiled appeared on her lips even before a shadow moved across the page, but she did not immediately look up. Instead, Parker cleared her throat and remarked,  
  
"Excuse me, but you are blocking my sun."  
  
* * * *  
  
Neither of them spoke right away. He dragged over a patio chair and sat down to face her then simply stared into her eyes for what seemed an eternity but may only have been a minute or two. Finally, he offered,  
  
"You're looking well."  
  
"As are you."  
  
And indeed he was. He was wearing jeans - faded blue not the usual black - and a button down, collarless shirt of pale gold. His hair was a bit longer than the last time she'd seen him but his face was mercifully clean shaven. He appeared rested and relaxed, but what struck her most were his eyes: the complete absence of that haunted, searching look that had been there for as long as she'd known him. Jarod wasn't running anymore; he knew who he was. Beautiful couldn't even begin to describe it.  
  
Looking around he remarked, "Nice place."  
  
"It's a small house but it doesn't require much upkeep, which is perfect for a busy single parent."  
  
Smiling he asked, "And how is young Mr. Parker?"  
  
"He's active, bright and growing like a weed. He's started attending a local preschool a couple afternoons a week, which is where he is now. You should hear his Portuguese; he's just soaking it up. We call him T.J., by the way."  
  
Nodding and blinking away he responded softly, "So I've heard and I am honored, Parker."  
  
Shrugging she explained, "It was an inexcusably sentimental thing to do, but I guess I'm getting soft in my old age. I'd like to think that Tommy would be honored too."  
  
"I haven't the slightest doubt in my mind," he said and, meeting her eyes again, continued, "I think it's marvelous what you're doing. I... I must confess to being a little surprised when I first heard. Stunned, actually."  
  
"That makes two of us," she replied with a snort then went on to explain, "When everything began to change and I was suddenly faced with the question of what to do about him, I... I don't think I've ever felt so unqualified to make a decision in my life. In fact, I didn't for several weeks. I just did my best to take care of him and keep him safe. All the while, I kept telling myself that I'd find a good home for him. God, poor Sydney... I must have gone over it with him a thousand times... how a child would be better off with a loving family, two parents, a white picket fence, a minivan... all the things I couldn't give him."  
  
"So what happened to change your mind?"  
  
"I'm not sure that I *have* changed my mind. I have no idea what I'm doing but... when I get him up in the morning or put him down at night, he looks up at me with such trust, as though he's convinced that I can actually *do* this."  
  
"Because you can," Jarod interjected with warm smile.  
  
"I guess we'll find out," Parker stated, sighed and continued, "For whatever reason, he seems to need and want me. I'm all he's got. Besides, as Syd pointed out, nobody can protect him the way that I can because nobody will or could comprehend where he came from, not the way that I do. Except maybe..." She looked intently into his eyes and tacked on, "You."  
  
He nodded solemnly then observed, "It's amazing how quickly things started to unravel... after."  
  
"Isn't it though?" she replied with a snicker.  
  
"I guess your father really was the heart of the place."  
  
"I suppose that's true in some ways but, if anything, it proves something I've suspected for quite a while: that the whole thing was just an elaborate house of cards. When Daddy was gone it created a power vacuum or the perception of one, anyway. The wrong person got twitchy, blinked, and it set off a chain reaction."  
  
"You have no idea how worried I was. More than once I considered breaking my promise to you."  
  
"I'll bet you did," she commented with a smirk. "But, in the end, the best thing you could have done was stay away. It got a little dicey there for a while but, ultimately, we simply got lost in the shuffle. I guess it was pretty apparent that the Chairman's daughter wasn't interested in inheriting his job, and Lyle clearly was so he drew most of the attention. Besides, you obviously weren't coming back so they lost interest. It's kind of funny, really. One evening Syd, Broots and I were talking when it suddenly hit us. *Nobody* would be coming for us. We weren't even important enough to kill. God, we must have laughed for a solid hour."  
  
"After all those years of struggle," Jarod muttered, shaking his head.  
  
"Ironic, isn't it?" Parker observed with a grin then added, "So, there we were."  
  
"Free to make your own plans."  
  
"And cover our tracks. We had a couple immediate concerns, namely Angelo and, of course, my baby brother."  
  
"Angelo seems to be adjusting well. Sydney has a real knack with him."  
  
"Ah..." She nodded. "You've been to see them." He nodded and smiled in response.  
  
Parker went on, "T.J. proved more problematic. I had no idea where he was. Daddy had moved him out of Blue Cove early on to keep him safe and refused to tell me where. I had Broots working on it around the clock but we weren't getting anywhere. I was close to giving up when Lyle showed up at my door at 3:00 a.m. with T.J. in his arms. He handed him over and said, 'Break the cycle, Parker.' That's the last time I saw him. I don't know whether he's alive or dead but, regardless, I don't expect to see him again."  
  
Jarod averted his eyes, taking a few moments to contemplate his shoes as he processed that last bit of information. Lyle was a difficult topic of discussion for obvious reasons, and she certainly didn't expect her report of the one decent thing her brother had ever done to wipe away all the pain he'd inflicted on Jarod and his family.   
  
When he finally spoke, it was to offer a soft, heartfelt, "I am sorry, Parker, about your father. Really, I am."  
  
"Thank you. I truly appreciate it."  
  
"It must have been very difficult for you."  
  
Shaking her head she commented, "You should have seen him. He was positively incredulous. After decades of surviving at the Centre, he simply could not believe that he wasn't going to be able to talk, bribe, intimidate or charm his way out of it. By the time he was diagnosed, the cancer had already spread from his kidneys to his lungs. It was over very quickly. I found out Labor Day Weekend and he died a week after Thanksgiving."  
  
Frowning, Jarod inched his chair forward then reached out to take her hand. He pressed her palm to his then used his other hand to tenderly stroke the top of hers. Parker smiled, warmth spreading through her body as she watched him stare at their clasped hands. Without looking up, he whispered,  
  
"You've had quite a year."  
  
"It had its moments... but it wasn't all bad. The time with Daddy, at the end, was alright. He was at home with around the clock nursing care and I moved Sam in to keep an eye on him. I was there virtually every evening and stayed most nights. At first it was fairly awkward in that typically dysfunctional Parker way but the closer he came to the end, the easier it got. I even summoned the courage to tell him about us."  
  
Looking up at her, incredulous, he asked, "You did?"  
  
Nodding she replied, "It was Thanksgiving evening. Lyle had left and I had given Sam the day off. By then, Daddy was in a hospital bed in the den and receiving morphine intravenously. I guess part of me just figured, what the heck, what harm could it do? And I guess another part of me didn't want my father to die without knowing who I really am."  
  
"And what did he say?"  
  
"Calm down, Angel, and don't be so damned dramatic!" She smiled wistfully as she recalled her father's words.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Well, I was pretty defensive. I told him that I supposed he could still burn me, even from that bed. He could spend his last moments ensuring that I was punished for my disloyalty if that's really how he wanted to finish things. He was quiet for a while then he shrugged and said that, deep down, he'd always known it was only a matter of time. Then he asked me what our plans were."  
  
"What did you tell him?"  
  
"That, as far as I knew, we didn't have any. You were gone and I had my life to get on with. Beyond that..." She smiled and squeezed his hand. "I just hoped to see my best friend again someday."  
  
Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed it and said, "You had to know you would."  
  
She nodded and shrugged. Silence reigned as Jarod looked around the garden then again at her hand, which he continued to hold in his. She waited patiently for him to say what he needed to. There was no hurry; she wasn't going anywhere. Fixing his gaze on her, he shook his head and sighed,  
  
"Oh, Parker."  
  
She raised her eyebrows expectantly. He sighed again then swiftly scooted forward, pivoted and sat down beside her on the chaise. Pressing her hand to his chest and gazing off into the distance, Jarod muttered,  
  
"Do you have any idea how much I've..."  
  
"Oh, I think I do," she interjected.  
  
Turning to look at her he stated, "I am going to go down in history as the world's biggest idiot."  
  
"I very much doubt that, but I am curious as to what makes you say so."  
  
Blinking away he smiled and said, "You mentioned a white picket fence earlier. We have one, you know, at the house where the family's been living. Seemed like a dream come true in the beginning... only..."  
  
"What?" she softly prodded.  
  
"After a while I grew to hate that fence. It made me feel, well, fenced in. And *that* made me feel guilty because Mom and Dad finally have their family back. Everything they had lost has been restored." He frowned then tacked on, "Well, almost everything."  
  
"I guess it's all a matter of perspective," Parker observed. "It makes sense that a man held captive most of his life would have an aversion to fences of any kind."  
  
"It was more than the fence," he said looking knowingly at her.  
  
"I know," she replied with a sympathetic smile.  
  
"It wasn't like I thought it would be," he reflected.  
  
"In life, things rarely are," she sighed.  
  
"We were. I thought... no, I *knew* we would be fantastic and we were."  
  
She nodded, they exchanged a smile and Jarod continued, "Don't get me wrong, a lot of it has been wonderful. On our first day together, my mother and I just held each other and cried. I had my first ever birthday party - the first one I remember anyway. And the whole family was together for Thanksgiving and Christmas."  
  
"I'm glad," Parker offered with a squeeze of his hand. "That's what I wanted for you. That's what I would picture whenever I'd wonder what you were doing. It made it easier... well, it made it bearable... almost."  
  
Shaking his head he lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips then muttered against her flesh, "I am an idiot."  
  
"You already said that but, okay, if you insist."  
  
He rolled his eyes at her and said, "It never occurred to me that it might be difficult. The fact of the matter is that, in many ways, we were strangers. The visits with Dad, Jon and Em had always been great, but they were temporary and it was all about fun. Once we were all living together under one roof the differences became glaringly obvious. Sometimes it felt as though there was an invisible line dividing the family: those who had been in the Centre and those who hadn't."  
  
"Again, hardly unexpected under the circumstances."  
  
"Maybe not but that didn't make it any easier. Sometimes I felt so alone. I missed... I missed the people I never had to explain anything to. I missed the people whose habits, tastes, and desires I fundamentally understood, the people who knew me equally well. I missed Sydney. God, I missed..."  
  
Jarod turned over Parker's hand and pressed his thumb into her palm, gently rubbing back and forth. The gesture was somehow intimate, sweetly erotic. Her body seemed to shift of its own accord to be closer to his. He looked into her eyes - longingly and worshipfully - the same way he'd looked at her the very first time they met.  
  
"I missed you so much it was like a raw, gaping wound. Everyone could see that I was in pain but nobody knew why. I..." He looked away guiltily and whispered, "Kept it to myself."  
  
"Ah, so you never confessed that you'd been sleeping with the enemy for a year," she commented evenly.  
  
Snapping his head back to face her he protested, "That wasn't it! For one thing, the woman who orchestrated our reunion is hardly considered the enemy. Far from it, actually. Jon never stops asking about you. Apparently you made quite an impression in your brief encounter."  
  
"Must be genetic," she teased.  
  
"That's not funny," he retorted. "I feel sorry for him. Where on earth is he ever going to find another?"  
  
"How old is he now?" she asked with a devilish grin.  
  
"Again, not funny," he replied with a grudging smile then continued, "Dad and Em aren't stupid and I suppose they suspected *something* when I ended it with Zoe. But they never asked and I never told. Once we were all together, I don't know, I just wanted to keep it here." He pressed her hand to his heart again then added, "Besides, I thought it might hurt them if they knew that I..."  
  
"Missed the people from your *previous* life."  
  
He nodded and explained, "So we all soldiered along - awkward and tense - until the one person who knew the whole truth decided to blow into town for a visit."  
  
"And how is baby brother?" Parker inquired with a smile.  
  
"Trouble, as usual," Jarod replied with a sigh. Raising his right arm, he wiggled his wrist and said, "I never take it off. Well, almost never. While my family had obviously seen it, they had never seen the inscription on the back. No one had, not even Ethan but I guess *he* wouldn't actually have to *see* it to know it was there."  
  
"Guess not," she concurred with a shrug.  
  
"One afternoon I was out in the garage helping Dad with a woodworking project and left it in my room so it wouldn't get damaged. That's when Ethan took it upon himself to swipe it and bring it to Mom. He said something like, 'This was a gift from my sister and I think it's time you ask your son about it.'"  
  
"He didn't," she said biting her lip.  
  
"Oh, he did, and it made for some rather lively dinnertime conversation that evening." Chuckling he added, "I could have killed him with my bare hands. But, in the end, he did me a favor. He did us all a favor. The next week or so was intense but we were all finally able to speak freely and without guilt or fear of hurting one another's feelings."  
  
"Ugh, sounds awful," Parker remarked.  
  
"Well, I wouldn't want to do it again," he replied wryly then sighed and continued, "A light bulb finally went on. All this time I've been searching for who I really am, and I was positively certain that finding my family would bring me to the real Jarod. I was single-minded. It was the premise around which I built my entire life, affecting every decision, every move, I made."   
  
"Everyone wants to know who they are, Jarod."  
  
"Precisely, and to a certain extent none of us will ever truly know because we're all left to wonder who we would be if the circumstances of our lives had been different. Maybe because mine qualifies as a bit of an extreme case I didn't see it sooner, but the fact remains that for seven years I was looking for the person I would be if I hadn't been abducted by the Centre."  
  
"Have you found him?"  
  
"No, because he no longer exists. He disappeared in 1963 and he's not coming back. Meanwhile, the real Jarod has been here all along. He's the person who, as a boy, delighted in the company of an amazing, beautiful girl - his best friend. He's the person who's spent thousands and thousands of hours in conversation with Sydney, and in those conversations learned how to be a man in the world. He's the person who became reacquainted with that girl from his childhood, only to find that she had grown into a goddess, a cranky goddess, but a goddess nevertheless."  
  
She shot him a look. He grinned and went on, "He's the person who went out there, saw the world, and met all kinds of interesting people. And, along the way, did some good... maybe. And he's the man who somehow managed to get his best friend back and then fell deeply, passionately in love with her. Incidentally, I love you, Parker."  
  
"Incidentally? Are you kidding?"  
  
"I'm sorry. I have been waiting one year, twelve days." He glanced at his wristwatch. "Five hours and fourteen minutes to say that so, in some ways, it seems like old news to me."  
  
"Not to me... I..."  
  
"I didn't say it to hear it. I didn't even say it for you. I said it because I needed to. Do you understand?"  
  
Jarod raised an eyebrow at her, casting her a lethally handsome look. Parker rolled her eyes and glanced away, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Giving his hand a hearty yank, she muttered,  
  
"Come here, you idiot."  
  
Grinning ear to ear he gleefully scrambled up on the chaise beside her then drew her into a long, slow, tender kiss. Afterwards he kissed her forehead and she nuzzled against him, maneuvering to sling one of her bare legs across both of his. There was silence as each adjusted to the renewed sensation of the other's touch. It was an easy adjustment.  
  
After a while she kissed his chin and asked softly, "What about your family?"  
  
"My family is very important to me; I love them. They are and will remain an integral part of my life. But I can't give my parents back the child they lost any more than they can give me back my lost childhood. The best we can do is enjoy who we've become, the people we are now. And the person I am now is at his best when he's with you. They'll miss me but they understand. In fact, my father lit a fire under me. He said that a woman like you won't stay available forever and that there are plenty of guys out there as cute as I am, even cuter."  
  
"Ridiculous," she commented with a smirk.  
  
"That's what I said," he replied with one of his charm-your-pants-off smiles.  
  
"You know," she advised with complete deadpan. "Everything is different now. My priorities have changed. I am not that fun-loving, carefree chick you once knew."  
  
"I'll take that under advisement," he said with soft chuckle.  
  
"But, seriously, it's not just me anymore. Besides, who knows if it... if *we* will even work. When you add it all up, our time together was only a matter of weeks. We never even fought, not once."  
  
"That's because we kept conversation to a minimum," Jarod joked.  
  
"Precisely!" Parker proclaimed as she sat up to look into his eyes.  
  
Shaking his head he reflected, "Which just goes to show that we always made better friends than enemies."  
  
She cast him a skeptical look then settled back down beside him as he continued, "Look, I know you have T.J. now and that he has to come first. Believe me, I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm the one who disappeared for a year, and I hardly expect to breeze in here and become an instant family. I would just like the opportunity to get to know him while I get reacquainted with his... mother. That's all, really. I need to have you in my life right now and I'll take what I can get."  
  
Sitting up again Parker raised an eyebrow and remarked, "Now where have I heard *that* before?"  
  
Jarod shrugged and pulled her back into an embrace then sighed, "Do you have any idea how good you look, smell and feel? I thought I remembered but I really didn't. Nothing imagined approaches the reality."  
  
"So, what do we do now?" she asked softly as she nestled her face in the crook of his neck.  
  
"I don't know. Anything we want, I guess. Strange concept, I know. You seem to be settled in here for a while. I'm renting a small place nearby. I heard that you've been keeping tabs on the remnants of the Centre. So have I, actually. There's always the chance that the whole thing could reassemble again. And, of course, there's the Triumverate. I see no reason why we can't continue to keep an eye on them and, perhaps, come up with some methods of quietly upsetting their apple cart. Might be fun to work *together* for a change. Oh, and I'd like to spend some time with Sydney, like we did at White Cloud. He could come down here. I think T.J. would be good for Angelo and vice versa. Angelo has such a way with children. Maybe we could have Broots and Debbie down too. It could be a real reunion."  
  
"Good lord," she muttered with a smile.  
  
"And... if you'd be willing... I'd really like you to..."  
  
"What?" she inquired looking up at him.  
  
"Spend some time with my family. I know you've met my father but I think he'll find you even more charming when you're not pointing a gun at him. I'd really like you to get to know Emily and Mom and, of course, see Jon again before he drives everybody crazy asking about you. And I'm sure Ethan will materialize to spend time with big brother and sister."  
  
"That all sounds super, Jarod, but I was thinking more short term. What do we do *now?*"  
  
Narrowing his eyes he brushed his fingers lightly across the soft skin of her thigh and inquired, "What time did you say T.J. is due back?"  
  
Casting him a look of mock disdain she observed, "I do believe that you traipsed all the way down here just to get into my pants."  
  
"Not *just,*" he responded with a wink adding, "It has been an awfully long year."  
  
"So," Parker drawled with a wicked grin as she climbed across him to straddle his lap. Placing her arms around his neck she inquired seductively, "What do you want to do *second?*"  
  
Grinning Jarod replied, "Dance."  
  
# # # #  
  
FIN  
  
You *had* to know I was kidding about the Zoe thing! Besides, sometimes you just need a happy ending...;-) 


End file.
